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More Laughs 


SHORT STORIES AND AMUSING 
ANECDOTES FOR A DULL HOUR 

EDITED AND ARRANGED BY 

HENRY MARTYN KIEFFER 

Author of “The Recollections of a 
Drummer Boy,” “It is to Laugh,” “The 
Funaybone,” “Laugh Again,” etc. 


NEW YORK :: :: DODGE 
PUBLISHING COMPANY 
55 FIFTH AVENUE 









Copyright, 1 923, by 
DODGE PUBLISHING COMPANY 

T 7 /!/ uiu 

XSi4- 


©C1A765848 


Printed in the 
United States of America 


MoreT, au&hs 


CONTENTS 


Ad Man’s Illustration, The 



.. 65 

All Depends on the Spelling 



80 

All Things to All—Women 



.. 79 

Appeasing the Baby 



.. 198 

Apples and Onions 



.. 171 

As Others See Us 

i • • 


.. 124 

At the Bar. 



.. 121 

“Aunt Jemima’s Courtship” 



.. 75 

Baffled. 



96 

Better Method, A 

• • 


.. 143 

Biblical Reason, A 


» [• 

.. 37 

Bishop Wily, The 



42 

Boomerang Echo, The 

+ r • 


.. 172 

Boyish Accuracy 



65 

Boy’s Elegy, A. 



. . 142 

“Brother Watkins” .. 


• • 

.. 70 


5 














More Laughs 

Bulky, Balky Book, A . . 108 

By the Yard Only. 119 

Catch, The. 188 

Calif orniacs. 17 

Caught a Tartar . 103 

Caught Him on the Snorograph 150 

Charge! . 148 

Charge, Another . 148 

"Check!” . 105 

Classical Slur, A.< 29 

Cold Feet . 70 

Collateral Branch, A . 56 

Compliments . 120 

Couldn’t Fight the Women. 185 

Couldn’t Put Pat in a Hole. 43 

Dead Alive. 194 

Dead Horse, The . 178 

December and May. 197 

"De Mortuis Nil Nisi Bene”. 159 

Did You Ever Sing This? . 113 

6 





















More Laughs 

Didn’t Know Sheep.108 

Didn’t Like Crow . 159 

Didn’t Read It Right . 30 

Didn’t Speak Up . 152 

Don’t Be too Curious . 160 

Down Off the Elephant. 172 

Down with It!. 137 

Edison Bulletin, The . 24 

“Eliminated Eggs”. 163 

“English as She Is Spoke” .213 

Enough to Carry . 66 

Ever Been There Yourself?. 84 

Figuratively Speaking .220 

Finger in the Pie, A . 77 

For the Blind . . .. 126 

Free Delivery . 158 

Gargoyle, The . 41 

“Get Punished? Naw!” . 176 

Grafting a Scotchman . 149 

Granted .. .. .« .. .. 186 

7 






















-Ste-More La\i&hs-gq®. 

Gubernatorial Amenities. 215 

Guess It? .145 

He Got His Desert. 181 

Heroic. 57 

Her Own Version . 58 

He Preferred the Bear . 128 

He Stopped Them . 102 

He Thought too Highly of Both .. .. 180 

His Weather Eye . 79 

Home, Sweet Home. 100 

Hooray! . 166 

“Horse Sense” . 129 

Horse of Another Color, A . . ., .. 169 

How to Write a Sermon. 86 

Humor in the Trenches. 60 

Hyphenated .• .. .. 142 

Important Omission, An. 115 

Infinite Series, An . 177 

In Olden Days. 35 

Irish Moonshine. 127 


8 
























^fc^More Lacu£hs 


Irish Wit . 173 

“Is That the Lord?”. 90 

Jumping at Conclusions. 162 

Key West Cigar, A.201 

Kilmaroo, The.195 

Keen Scent, A. 216 

Lazy Dad .164 

Lifting the Bishop .. .. 87 

Literary-Tipperary .193 

Made Him Homesick . 83 

Magic Love Potion, A . 34 

Masonic Sign, The. 140 

Melon Oil . 179 

Mighty Good Tip, A .. ,.210 

Mister Jinks ... .. 123 

Mixed. .. .. 93 

“Mutatis Mutandis”.. .. 155 

Mutual Wish, A. .. .. 176 

Narrow Escape, A .. .. 131 

National Color, The . 136 


9 























^K^More 

Naturally! . 146 

“Ne Quid Nimis” . 85 

“Never Heard of Him”. 37 

New Use for Bibles, A. 61 

Next! . 112 

Nineteen Eighteen (1918) 184 

Not a Comeback . Ill 

Not Sir Walter Raleigh. 64 

Not Sure of Some of Them. 157 

Not With That Bunch . 160 

Not Worth the Difference . 182 

“Oh, Beg Pardon!”. 89 

Oh, Joy! . 36 

“Old Thad” . 199 

On a Descending Scale.200 

Once Over, The. 77 

One on the Bishop. 100 

One on the Preacher. 101 

On the Wrong Scent. 141 

Out of Sight . 161 


10 


























More Lau&hs 


Out of Pocket .. .203 

Outrageous Beast! An . 52 

Patriotic . 113 

Peach Pie . 55 

Peddler’s Comeback, The . 144 

Perfect Man, The . 50 

Philosophy of Holes, The . 147 

Piscatorial Limerick, A. 88 

Plausibility.167 

Poetical Tail, A.103 

Poison Ivy.118 

Power of Suggestion, The . 175 

Predestinated! 67 

Preferred the Bear.128 

Q. E. D. 28 

Quitters, A Pair of . . .. 191 

Rare Works of Art. 55 

Reason, The .212 

Red, a Good Bait .. .. 33 

“Reel in!”. 114 


11 

























More L&\i&hs 



Remarkable Deliverance, A .. 

.. 128 

Revenge! . 

.. 138 

Rhyme of Pure Reason, A 

48 

Ringing Farewell, A. 

98 

Ruled Out. 

68 

Ruling Passion, The. 

44 

Saw the Point. 

. . 125 

Scotched! .. .. . 

. . 203 

Scrapple . 

. . 208 

Sectional Salvage . 

. . 104 

Self Advertised. 

. . 169 

She Found It . 

94 

Simple Solution, A. 

. . 122 

Smoker’s Puzzle, The . 

. . 174 

Snuffers, A Pair of. 

. . 190 

So to Speak . 

. . 175 

Speaking of Apples. 

. . 168 

Spoiled the Game . 

.. 31 

Spooner Again. 

.. 170 

Squatter Sovereignty . 

.. 163 

12 



















More Laughs - 



Stalled. 217 

Star Spangled Banner, The. 20 

Superstition .221 

Swallow Homeward Flies, The .. .. 135 

Tartar Witness, A . 139 

Telling Which from ’Tother. 47 

They Skedaddled . 40 

Tit for Tat. 119 

Tit for Tat (Another) . 134 

Too Inquisitive. 69 

Unfortunate Introduction, An .. .. 117 

Used His Own Code. 46 

Vacuum Theology . 117 

Wanted to be There Himself. 184 

’Ware the Adjective! . 88 

Warm Prospect, A. ,. .. 138 

Warning, A Fair—(Finis) .223 

“Watch Your Step”. 59 

Wayside Barber Shop, A . 178 

Weary Conscience, A .. .. .. .. 106 

13 


















More 

Welcome Substitute, A.130 

What a Pity! . 74 

Which? . 95 

Whole Soled . 82 

Why the Lamp Went Out . 36 

Witty Ambassador, A . 19 

Worked Both Ways. 156 

Woman and the Tramp, The.202 

Wouldn’t Carry It . 51 

Wrong Man, The . 26 

Zoo-logical.110 


14 


4 

















A FOREWORD 


A Sense of Humor—why, that must be the 
gift that fairy godmothers bestow on those 
who are born under a lucky star, or with a 
caul over the face. It is the gift of those who 
are the most favored of the gods. And per¬ 
haps that is why it is so rare. It is a divine 
gift, a blessed gift, a gift that is more potent 
than beauty, more to be prized than wealth. 
To sense the humorous side of things, to find 
laughter where others often find aggravation— 
that helps to absorb, oh, so many of the hard 
bumps and the rude knocks of life.—Anon. 


15 


« 


More Laughs 

CALIFORNIACS 

Franklin K. Lane, former Secretary of the 
Interior, relates the following: 

“We now come to California. Being a Cali¬ 
fornian, I must speak with some degree of mod¬ 
esty regarding that state, though that is said 
not to be the characteristic of the Californian. 

“Let me tell you a story: I went over to 
Baltimore to speak to a Methodist Conference 
some time ago. I met there a splendid- 
looking man, with a long, flowing, white beard, 
and I said to him, ‘Do you preach in this sec¬ 
tion of the country?’ He said, ‘Yes, sir. I 
come from the Eastern Shore of Maryland. 
Have you ever been on the Eastern Shore?’ 
I said, ‘No, I am sorry to say that I have seen 
every beauty-spot in this whole country, I be¬ 
lieve, but I have never seen that.’ 

“ ‘Well,’ he said to me, ‘we love that country. 

17 





<^ypMore Laughs 

I have been preaching there for sixty-six years. 
We are a strange people, and we have some 
strange legends, and one of them is that a 
long, long time ago, when Adam and Eve lived 
in the Garden of Eden, they fell sick, and the 
Lord was very much disturbed about them, 
and he called a council of his angels, and 
wanted to know where they should be taken 
for a change of scene and air, so that they 
might improve. 

“ ‘The angel Gabriel suggested that they 
should be taken to the Eastern Shore of Mary¬ 
land, but the Lord said, “No, no: that would 
not be sufficient change!” 

“It is somewhat in that same spirit that 
every Californian speaks of California, and 
that is the reason why one of us has given the 
name Californiacs to all those of us who are 
expatriated like myself.” 


18 





More Laxi&hs 



A WITTY AMBASSADOR 

When Mr. Choate was Ambassador to Eng¬ 
land it was never difficult for any one with real 
business to see him, but he discouraged visits 
of curiosity or sociability during the hours that 
he devoted to the business of his country. 

One day the nephew of Bishop W-called. 

Mr. Choate was very busy. 

“Take a chair/* said the Ambassador politely, 
turning again to some papers that demanded 
his attention. 

The visitor was impatient, and remarked 
loftily: 

“But, sir, I am Bishop W-*s nephew!’* 

“Oh, in that case,” said Mr. Choate, “take 
two chairs!” 

Among British matrons regret was general 
over the departure from London of the gal¬ 
lant, keen, bright-eyed, clear-brained diplo¬ 
mat, “with whom Time seemed to jest.’* The 

19 







^fy^More Laughs 

ladies had been allowed to sit in the gallery 
at a notable London banquet at which Mr. 
Choate spoke soon after his arrival. He won 
his place at once when he rose to speak. Look¬ 
ing at the faces above him, he exclaimed: 

“Now I know what Scripture means when 
it says, 'Thou madest man a little lower than 
the angels/ ” 

But amongst all his gallant remarks that 
one, which is most often repeated, stands easily 
first. When asked who he would rather be if 
he could not be Joseph H. Choate, he replied, 
“Mrs. Choate’s second husband!” 

“THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER” 

vs. 

“THE MARSEILLAISE” 

Says “The Literary Digest”: “The difficul¬ 
ties of our National Anthem appear in the 
following little drama, which reads like 

20 






More Laughs <£>j[§r 


the truth and nothing but the truth, as pre¬ 
sented in ‘Liaison.* ‘The Courier of the Big- 
gun Corps,* published at Fortress Monroe, 
Virginia.” 

There is humor also in the little skit, for 
which Captain Earl W. Thompson assumes 
responsibility, as well as a glimpse into both 
French and American character. The little 
drama goes: 

The Scene: A French cafe. 

The Time: Soon after the Armistice had 
been signed. 

The Characters: Four or five American 
sergeants, who had been drinking much vin 
blanc, better known among the elect as ‘‘vink 
blink,** and the French proprietor, an elderly 
gentleman who, tradition said, had been 
through the battles of 1870. 

One of the sergeants is seated at an ancient 
piano pounding out with much fervor the 

21 





Lau&hs«£^ 

strains of “La Marseillaise,” while the other 
sergeants were singing it with as much quan¬ 
tity and as little quality as the occasion 
demanded. 

Sergeants: “Marchons, marchons, 

Qu’un sang impur, 

Abreuve nos sillons.” 

(Much stamping of the feet and clinking of 
glasses.) 

“Aux Frangais: next to America the great¬ 
est bunch of Bull-shooters in the wide, wide 
world!” 

Proprietor: “Ah, ces Americains, you are 
too good to an old Frenchman. You make my 
heart glad as you sing so sweetly ‘La Mar¬ 
seillaise/ And now you shall sing for me 
your own National Anthem, ‘The Star Span¬ 
gled Banner.’ ” 

First Sergeant (whispering to Bill, the Ser¬ 
geant Major, who has been acting as trans- 

22 






More Laughs 


lator during the hard spots): “Say, Bill, for 
the love of The General Staff, pull off the 
Venerable Frog. Some of us may know all 
the first verse, but whoinell can hit that high 
note? None of us ever learned the second 
verse, and nobody ever heard the last verse. 
Bill, for the love of all that’s good and holy, 
string him a line!” 

Bill (also whispering): “Watch me, kid, 
watch me. I’m the Original Little Fixit. 
Listen to this line of Patter.” 

(To the Proprietor) : “Merci, merci, mon¬ 
sieur, mais—‘The Star Spangled Banner/ it is 
not proper to sing it here. It is a holy anthem, 
one that is not to be sung in the midst of 
revelery and the jests of a French bar room— 
even such an excellent one as yours, monsieur. 
It is a hymn, rather to be sung before going 
into battle with a fervor that approaches the 
religious. Hence, monsieur, we would rather 

23 





More Laughs 

not, if you do not insist, sing our National 
Hymn here/’ 

Proprietor (with much shrugging of shoul¬ 
ders) : “C’est bien, messieurs, je comprends, 
vous avez raison. It is well that ‘The Star 
Spangled Banner’ means so much to you. 
Our ‘Marseillaise’—we sing it even when we 
milk the cow in the barn. It is our song.” 

Curtain. 

(Fast and furious.) 

From the wings the Sergeants sing Penn¬ 
sylvania’s National Hymn: “Hail, Hail, the 
Gang’s All Here!” 

Darkness and Quiet. 

THE EDISON BULLETS 

Two negroes were walking along Ninth 
Avenue discussing the wonderful inventions 
brought about by the great World War. 

“Yes, sah,” one said, “an’ a friend o’ mine, 

24 





<gj^yMore Lavi&hsv^f^ 

who knows all about it, says dis heah man 
Edison has done gone invented a magnetized 
bullet dat can’t miss a German, kase if dere’s 
one in a hundred yards de bullet is drawn right 
smack agin his helmet. Yes, sah, an* he’s done 
invented anotha one, wid a return attachment. 
Whenever dat bullet don’t hit nothin’, it comes 
back right straight to de American lines!” 

“Dat’s what I calls inventin’,” exclaimed the 
other. “But, say—how ’bout dem come-back 
bullets? What do dey do to keep ’em from 
hitin’ ouah men?” 

“Well, mah frien’ didn’t tell me ’bout dat, 
but, if Mr. Edison made ’em, you can bet youah 
life he’s got ’em trained. You don’t s’pose he’d 
let ’em kill any Americans, do you? No, sah. 
He’s got ’em all fixt so’s dey jes’ ease back 
down aroun’ de gunner’s feet an* say, ‘Boss, 
dey’s all daid in dat trench. Send me to a live 
place whar I kin do somethin’.* ” 

25 





^fe^More Lau&hs«£%^ 


THE WRONG MAN 

Captain White was a steamship captain. 
He had made many successful voyages across 
the great waters. He is fond of relating the 
following: 

“On one voyage over I was bringing to this 
country a cargo of some six or eight hundred 
Russian immigrants, mostly Jews. I knew 
them to be a very religious and a very excit¬ 
able lot of people and I was anxious that 
nothing should occur on the voyage to rouse 
them up and create any excitement. 

“On the fifth day out I learned that a man 
had died in room number twenty-one. Desir¬ 
ing to keep the news from my passengers, 
I called up my Irish steward, and I said in a 
half whisper: 

“ ‘Pat, there’s a man has just died in room 
number twenty-one. Now, I don’t want this 

26 




^fe^More Laughs 

to get abroad amongst the passengers, they are 
so excitable, you know. So I’ll tell you what 
we’ll do. To-night, after they are all down and 
sound asleep, you just quietly slip into that 
room, wrap the dead man in a good bit of can¬ 
vas, cord him up well, and put a heavy weight 
to his feet and slip him over the rail.* 

“Says Pat, saluting, ‘I’ll do it, Captain, or 
me name isn’t McGinnis.’ ** 

Three days later the Captain, being in that 
part of the vessel and thinking of the dead 
man, opened the door of room number twenty- 
one, and there lay the dead man, cold and stiff, 
in his bunk! 

He called up the Irish steward,. “Pat,” said 
he. “didn’t I tell you to throw that dead man 
overboard three days ago?” 

Says Pat, respectfully saluting, “And didn’t 
I do it, sure?” 

“But,” says the Captain, “I find the dead 

27 








man still in his room, room number twenty- 
one.” 

“Twenty-one?” queried Pat with astonish¬ 
ment. “Captain, dear, you said it was in room 
thirty-one.” 

“And did you go into room thirty-one and 
throw a man out?” 

“I did that, Captain, dear, according to 
orders.” 

“But, was the man dead?” asked the Captain. 

“Well,” said Pat, scratching his head, “he 
said he wasn’t—but these blamed foreigners 
they lie so that a man can’t believe a word 
they say, an’ so I just tied him up an’ shoved 
him overboord!” 

Q. E. D. 

A good story is told of a reply given by a 
student to a question set in an examination 
paper: 

“If twenty men reap a field in eight hours,” 

28 






More La\i£hs 

ran the question, ‘‘how long will it take fifteen 
men to reap the same field?” 

The student struggled hard mentally with 
this proposition. He thought it over long and 
carefully before setting down the answer. 
And when he handed in his paper, this is what 
the examiner read: 

“The field having been already reaped by 
the twenty men, it could not be reaped again 
by the fifteen men!” 

A CLASSICAL SLUR 

“I thought your wife’s name was Elizabeth?” 
“So it is.” 

“Then why do you call her Peggy?” 

“Short for Pegasa.” 

“What has that to do with it?” 

“Why, Pegasa is feminine for Pegasus.” 
“Well?” 

“Well, Pegasus was an immortal steed.” 

29 





'gy^More Laughs 

“And what of that?” 

“Sh! Not so loud! She’s in the next room. 
You see, an immortal steed is an everlasting 
nag—and there you are!” 

DIDN’T READ IT RIGHT 

Jenkins’ wife was away on a visit. Now, 
Jenkins was a very busy man. He believed 
not in lengthy communications. In letter 
writing particularly, brevity was the very soul 
of excellence. 

He loved his wife devotedly, enjoyed hear¬ 
ing from her often, and always devoured her 
brief letters with the keen appetite of an en¬ 
thusiastic lover. But, to wade through a long 
drawn out letter of sixteen pages was to him 
an utter waste of time and eyesight. 

So, one day his heart danced with delight at 
the receipt of the following from her—a per- 

30 





^te^More Laughs 

feet gem of a thing, so short and sweet—and 
so to the point. Here is the letter: 

M.d.l. 

I.b.s.d.f.t.n.a.n.o.t.W.m.f, 

Mary. 

He read it: 

“My darling love. 

“I barely sleep, dearest, for thinking night 
after night of thee. With much faith, Mary.” 

Whereas he should have read it thus: 

“Money down low. I bought silk dress for 
thirty nine at Newburg’s on tic. Wire me 
fifty. Mary.” 

HE SPOILED THE GAME 

A game warden heard that a certain restau¬ 
rant was serving game out of season. He 
disguised himself with a false beard, visited 
the place and ordered a pheasant. 

The pheasant, delicately high, like Roque- 

31 






lSfc*More Lscu&hs^f^ 

fort cheese, as all good pheasants should be, 
was served to the game warden, and he de¬ 
voured it to the last morsel, at the same time 
inflicting severe punishment on a bottle of rare 
old Burgundy—for the State, of course, paid 
for all. 

At the end of his repast the warden sum¬ 
moned the proprietor and said, “I arrest you 
in the name of the Law!” 

The proprietor’s mouth opened in astonish¬ 
ment. He swallowed two or three times, and 
then gasped, “Wh—what for?” 

“For serving me a pheasant out of season,” 
said the game warden. 

A look of infinite relief appeared on the pro¬ 
prietor’s face as he said: 

“Oh, that’s all right. That wasn’t pheas¬ 
ant—-it was CROW!” 


12 





More La\i&Iis^f|r 

RED, A GOOD BAIT 

Mrs. Blank had in her employ a colored maid 
who belonged to a “Funeral Club,” which 
binds all its members to attend every funeral 
of a member upon receipt of notification. 

One afternoon Dinah’s mistress saw her 
come down the stairs, ready to go out, dressed 
in a bright scarlet dress, with a large scarlet 
willow plume in her hat, and a red parasol in 
her hand. 

“Why, Dinah, I thought you were going to 
a funeral this afternoon,” said Mrs. Blank. 

“Yessum, I’se gwine to de funeral, all right,” 
said Dinah. 

“But, Dinah—you ought not to wear red to 
a funeral,” said the mistress. “You ought 
to be dressed quietly in a dark dress.” 

Dinah poked the toe of her shoe with the 
point of her parasol, and meditated a moment 
and then said: 



33 





More La\ighs «^^^ 

“Well, Ah reckon Ah won’t go back an’ 
change now. Ah’ll jest wear this.” 

Some three weeks later Dinah approached 
her mistress and told her that she was going 
to leave, because she was going to be married. 

Mrs. Blank expressed her astonishment. She 
did not know that Dinah even had an admirer. 
Dinah simpered, and twisted the corner of her 
apron and said: 

“No, I didn’t have one till jist lately. Does 
you remember dat funeral Ah went to see one 
time when Ah wore my red dress? Well, 
missus, dat red dress was what done de busi¬ 
ness, for dat particular shade o’ red done gone 
an’ kotched de eye o’ de corpse’s husband!” 

A MAGIC LOVE POTION 

A young woman who thought she was losing 
her husband’s affection went to a Seventh 

34 





^j^MGre La\i£hs«£^f^ 

daughter of a Seventh daughter for a Love 
Powder. The Mystery Woman told her: 

“Get a raw piece of good and juicy beef, cut 
flat, about an inch thick. Slice a big onion ex¬ 
actly in two, and rub the meat on both sides 
with the pieces, seven times with each piece. 
Then put on pepper and salt and toast it slowly 
on each side over a red coal fire. Then drop on 
seven lumps of fresh butter, and seven sprigs 
of parsley, and get him to eat it.” 

The young wife did so—and her husband 
loved her ever thereafter. 

IN OLDEN DAYS 

An irate Neolithic man, 

His anger to assuage, 

Once stoned a peaceful mastodon— 

’Twas in the Stony Age. 

His simply costumed lady-love. 

Who dearly loved to pun, 

35 






<^te*More Lavi&hs«£5^ 

Remarked, with sparkling, roguish eyes— 
“What has the Mastodon ?” 

OH, JOY! 

Whatever else may happen, 

Since Our Country has gone dry, 

The sailor still will have his Port, 

The farmer have his Rye: 

The cotton still will have its Gin, 

The sea-coast have its Bar: 

And each of us will have a Bier, 

No matter where we are. 

WHY THE LAMP WENT OUT 

In the parlor there were three— 

She, the parlor lamp and he: 

Two is company, no doubt— 

And so the little lamp went out! 

36 





jy^More Lavishs 

A BIBLICAL REASON 

A bashful curate found the young ladies in 
the parish too helpful. At last it became so 
embarrassing that he left. 

Not long afterward he met the curate who 
had succeeded him. “Well,” he asked, “how 
do you get along with the ladies?” 

“Oh, very well indeed,” said the other. 
“There is safety in numbers, you know.” 

“Ah!” was the quick reply. “Safety in 
Numbers? I could find it only in Exodus!” 

“NEVER HEARD OF HIM” 

It occurred at a Democratic political mass 
meeting, held in Jersey City near the close of 
the Presidential campaign of 1900. James A. 
Hammill, of Jersey City, later a member of 
the House of Representatives, was the first 
speaker. He addressed himself to the theme 
of anti-imperialism. He assailed the Philip- 

37 






4POr More Lau&hs 

pine policy of the McKinley administration, 
declaring that it saddled an alien and weaker 
people with a government in which they had 
no share, and that the exploitation of the 
islands was undermining the principles of 
American life. “As Oliver Goldsmith well 
said,” concluded Mr. Hammill, 

“Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a 
prey, 

Where wealth accumulates and men 
decay.” 

After Mr. Hammill had finished, the late 
Representative, Allen L. McDermott, arrived 
and was introduced to the audience. He also 
made an anti-imperialistic speech, exclaiming 
that the sacred principles of American govern¬ 
ment were corroded by the greed of conquest. 
“I can do no better,” he concluded, “than to 
repeat the warning so well phrased by Oliver 
Goldsmith, 


38 






More Laughs 



“Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a 
prey, 

Where wealth accumulates and men 
decay.” 

The third speech of the evening was deliv¬ 
ered by William J. Bryan, then a candidate for 
the Presidency. He arrived late from another 
meeting, in entire ignorance of the nature of 
the previous addresses. This was his per¬ 
oration : 

“I want a government based on right and 
justice, a government in which the lowest man 
shall be able to realize his energies in every 
field of action. ... I want a government in 
which the least citizen shall be permitted to 
accomplish his destiny without being subject 
to any limitation, except those which God has 
placed upon him. As Oliver Goldsmith has 
truly said-” 

At this point the chairman of the meeting 

39 






^K^More LaM&hs v>^fe 

felt some one nudging him in the ribs. He 
turned to find his neighbor, a large, fat and 
perplexed man, who whispered: 

“What’s this fellow Goldsmith running for, 
anyway?” 

THEY SKEDADDLED 

It is related that, the other day in Newark, 
a man appeared in the entrance to one of the 
theaters and said to an attendant, “I want to 
go in there. My wife’s in there in company 
with another man, and I’ve got a gun in my 
pocket, and I’m going to kill them both.” 

In order to avoid a rumpus the attendant 
quickly ’phoned to the manager, and he at 
once appeared on the stage and said: 

“I understand there is a man at the entrance 
who says his wife is in the audience with 
another man, and he is coming in to shoot 
them both. As we don’t want any disturbance, 

40 





More Laughs 

I would suggest to the couple that there is a 
rear entrance by which they can quietly 
leave-” 

Before he had finished his merciful announce¬ 
ment, not less than eleven couples arose and 
made for that rear door! 

THE GARGOYLE 

The Gargoyle often makes its perch 
On a cathedral or a church, 

Where, mid ecclesiastic style, 

It smiles an early Gothic smile. 

And while the parson, dignified, 

Spouts at his weary flock inside, 

The Gargoyle, from its lofty seat, 

Spouts at the people in the street, 

And, like the parson, seems to say 
To those beneath him, ‘‘Let us spray.” 

I like the Gargoyle best: it plays 
So cheerfully on rainy days, 

41 






40^* More Laughs 

While the parson (no one can deny) 

Is an awful damper when he’s dry. 

—Oliver Herford, in Scribner’s. 

THE WILY BISHOP 

The following is related of the late Dr. John 
Strachan, the first Bishop of Toronto: 

A delegation had been appointed from a 
certain parish to prefer charges against their 
rector. It was in the days of written sermons, 
and amongst other things they alleged that 
their parson had a whole barrel of them, and 
that he turned the barrel over every year, 
and that on the last Sunday he had preached 
the same sermon as on the Sunday before! 
“What was the text?” asked the Bishop in 
broad Scotch. None of them could remember. 
And then the Bishop said, “I will write to him 
and tell him to preach that same sermon the 
next Sunday so that ye may remember 

42 






More Laughs <5^ 

the text.” With equal shrewdness the good 
Bishop brushed aside other equally futile com¬ 
plaints. The delegation then played their 
trump card, with little of the confident hope, 
however, that had possessed them at the out¬ 
set of the interview—“He buys whisky by the 
bottle!” “He does, does he!” exclaimed 
the Bishop, “the extravagant man! I will tell 
him to buy it by the barrel. I always do. It is 
much cheaper to buy it that way. Good 
morning.” 

COULDN’T PUT PAT IN A HOLE 
^hey had taken Pat in as a new hand at 
the lumber yard, and just by way of testing his 
mettle, a few days after his employment, the 
head of the firm told the new hand that he 
was going out for a while and he would be left 
in charge of the office. He was particularly 
cautioned to stay close by the telephone and 
take all orders that might come in. The Boss 

43 






More Laai&hs 

then went around the corner to a neighbor’s 
office and rung Pat up. The call said: 

“This is Dingleberry’s. We want to put in 
a rush order for a thousand A No. 1 Knot 
Holes, to be delivered tomorrow morning not 
later than nine o’clock.” 

Back came the answer without a moment’s 
hesitation, “Sorry, Mr. Dingleberry, we can’t 
fill your order. Haven’t a blissed knothole on 
the primises. We jist filled an order for all the 
knotholes we had in stock, an’ there isn’t 
another one left.” 

“What’s that? Sold them all? Who took 
them?” 

“Bergstein’s Brewery got ’em—they used 
’em all up for bung-holes in their beer barrels!” 

THE RULING PASSION 

Solomon was looking over the rail of the 
stern of the vessel that was carrying him to 

44 






^T^More La\t&hs<^> 

America, the great Land of Opportunity. As 
he cast his eye over the tossing sea he saw a 
whale steadily following the great ship. 

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Look! Vot iss dot?” 

“A whale,” said the sailor men. 

“Undt fer vot iss he follerin’ us?” 

“Wants something to eat,” they said. “He 
eats any old thing. Here, throw him this stool 
and watch him take it in.” 

Solomon cast the three-legged stool to the 
monster. It was promptly devoured. Excited 
and astonished, Solomon looked around for 
something else to heave overboard, and, a box 
of lemons being handy, he let that go, and was 
amazed to see the monster gulp it down with¬ 
out so much as a wink. 

Then Solomon became so excited that he 
quite lost his head. And in his excitement 
he became so dizzy that he fell over the rail, 
and the whale promptly took him in. 

45 





<fK^More Laughs,<3^ 

“Man overboard!” shouted the starboard 
watch, and all hands manned the harpoon gun 
and let go. With huge difficulty they tugged 
the monster on deck, quickly ripped him 
open—and what d’ye suppose they found? 
There was Solomon, sitting on the three- 
legged stool with the box of lemons in front 
of him, calling out in a lusty voice, “Lemmens! 
Lemmens! Three fer five!” 

USED HIS OWN CODE 

An engineer, who was repairing a railroad 
line in South Africa, found a cozy farmhouse, 
which he proceeded to occupy. 

Promptly came a telegram which read: 
“G. T. M. wants house.” 

The engineer wondered who “G. T. M.” 
might be. On inquiry he found it referred to 
the general traffic manager. 

“All right,” he murmured, “if he can use 
hieroglyphics, so can I.” 

46 






More L&\ighs m. 

So he wired back: “G. T. M. can G. T. H.” 

Two days later there came a very indignant 
and self-important gentleman. It was the gen¬ 
eral traffic manager. In coldly polite terms he 
asked the engineer what he meant by sending 
such an insolent message to his superior? 

The engineer said innocently, “Why, it 
wasn’t insolent at all.” 

“Wasn’t insolent, eh?” snorted the great 
man. “What do you mean then by saying 
I can G. T. H.?” 

“Simply an abbreviation,” explained the 
engineer sweetly. “I wired that the G. T. M.— 
the general traffic manager—can G. T. H.—get 
the house!” 

TELLING WHICH FROM ’TOTHER 

A Georgia “Cracker” tells this story on his 
own people. He says a Northern man, who 

47 






^y^More Laughs 

had settled in Georgia, was visited by a friend 
who asked him how he liked the place and 
the people. 

“Oh, all right,” replied the man. 

“But, tell me,” asked the friend, “what is a 
‘Georgia Cracker ?’ ” 

“Well,” replied the Northern settler, “you 
see that black object out there in that field?” 

The Northerner looked in the direction indi¬ 
cated and said that he saw it. 

“Now,” said the man, “that may be one of 
two things. It may be either a ‘Georgia 
Cracker’ or a stump. You just stand here and 
watch it closely for half an hour and you will 
find out which it is. If it moves—why, it’s 
a stump!” 

A RHYME OF PURE REASON 

A Christian Science Proselyte 
Alone upon a mountain height, 

48 





<fg^More Laughs 

Was pondering upon the vain 
Belief in non-existent pain, 

How nervous Dread of any kind 
Was an Illusion of the Mind— 

When, coming down the mountain-side, 
A Dreadful Lion he espied. 

The Proselyte said, “Mercy me!” 

And quickly scuttled up a Tree. 

Next morning, at the rise of sun, 

There came an unconverted one, 

Who saw the Proselyte at bay, 

And drove the hungry Beast away. 

The Cynic said, “Aha! I see 
Your Claim has got you up a Tree!” 
“Your judgment,” said the Proselyte, 
“Arises from Imperfect Sight. 

A Lion, to a soul refined, 

Is an illusion of the Mind.” 

“If that’s the case,” the Cynic said, 
“Why show these human signs of Dread? 

49 





More L&cu^lis 

Why pass the night, secure from harm, 

In yonder elevated palm?” 

“Friend,” said the Saint, “if you but knew— 
This Tree is but an Illusion, too. 

When in a Jungle far from Home, 

Where purely Mental Lions roam, 

It puts me more at ease to be 
Up some Imaginary Tree.” 

“How great is Mind!” the Stranger cried— 
And went his way quite Eddy-fied. 

THE PERFECT MAN 

They were holding a monster Suffragette 
meeting in the Town Hall, and a famous 
oratress was holding forth, making a satirical 
tirade against the boasted superiority of the 
male sex. Said she, “Who ever saw a perfect 
man? If there is any one here who has, I trust 
he will at once stand up and testify.” 

50 





More LaM&hs 

A man got to his feet away back in the 
audience. “Well?” said she, “let’s have it. 
You have seen a perfect man. Where is he?” 

“I don’t just know where he is at the present 
writing,” was the answer. “I wish to gracious 
he could be here to speak for himself, but un¬ 
fortunately he is dead. The only perfect man 
I ever heard of is—my wife’s first husband.” 

WOULDN’T CARRY IT 

She was Amazonian, but her husband was 
rather undersized—a not infrequent matrimo¬ 
nial combination. She had with much care 
prepared a fine banner, properly inscribed, and 
she intended to carry it herself in the great 
Suffragette parade, but when the time came 
for the parade she was prevented by some 
slight indisposition from taking part. She 
therefore called up her husband and gave him 

51 






More Lavi&hs^^y 

the banner, telling him to be sure to carry it 
for her. He said, “Yes’m,” rolled up the ban¬ 
ner, took it under his arm and joined the pro¬ 
cession. From an upper window she watched 
the procession go by, but looked in vain for 
her own banner, her husband marching along 
solemnly at the tail of the parade. After it was 
all over, she called him up and wanted to know 
why he had not done as she had commanded 
him—and she had a slipper in her hand. He 
protested that he had carried it. “Yes,” said 
she, “you carried it under your arm. But why 
didn’t you unroll it?” 

“How could I?” was his plea. “For it 
reads—‘If MEN can vote, why can’t I?*” 

AN OUTRAGEOUS BEAST! 

A party nominee for superintendent of 
schools in a Middle Western county, in which 

52 






^FC^More 

a large city is situated, had to take an exami¬ 
nation at the State capitol to test his qualifica¬ 
tions before the law would permit his name to 
be placed on the ballot. 

He passed the,examination, although with 
none too high an average, but the fun of it was 
that in the midst of the campaign the incum¬ 
bent, a woman, who did not like the candidate 

♦ 

any too well, got hold of his examination 
papers and turned a copy of them over to an 
opposition newspaper, and that is how the 
joke got out. 

His answers to a number of questions were 
very laughable, but one of them in particular 
was regarded as so very amusing that all effort 
at keeping it from the general public failed. 

The question was, “Define jeopard.” This 
was a sore puzzle to the political aspirant to 
high educational honors, but he boldly tackled 
it and wrote: “A jeopard is a strange kind of 

53 






^yr^More Laughs 

an animal, not often met with except in 
tropical countries, a kind of cross between 
a ferocious member of the cat tribe and a 
rhinoceros !” 

Then, a cartoonist on the opposition news¬ 
paper drew daily pictures of the candidate’s 
“Jeopard,” that made everybody in the city 
and county laugh uproariously. Many said 
that if they were in the politician’s place, they 
would withdraw from the ticket, pack up and 
leave the State. 

Not he. He would do no such thing. He 
would stay on the ticket. And he did—and 
was elected. It made him popular, for he said 
that while the joke was a big one, it did not 
necessarily stamp him as incompetent, as 
nobody can know everything, and mistakes 
happen in the best regulated families. But, 
what an opportunity for the naughty school- 

54 





^te^More La\t£hs~ 

boys in his district to draw funny pictures on 
their slates when his back was turned! 

PEACH PIE 

They were husband and wife, and they stood 
before the Capitol in Washington. She asked 
him, “What’s that figure on top?” “That’s a 
goddess,” he answered. “And, what’s a god¬ 
dess?” she queried. “A goddess,” replied he, 
“is a woman who holds her tongue.” She 
looked at him sideways, and then began plan¬ 
ning how to make a peach pie with the stones 
in it, for the benefit of his sore tooth. 

RARE WORKS OF ART 

At a sale of machine-made oil paintings 
there was one of Niagara, in blue and green 
water, and white moonlight, and green grass 
and gray rocks. “That is a very rare picture, 

55 






4 ^0* More La\ighs «^^ 

sir, a very rare picture,” remarked the illus¬ 
trious artist who presided over the auction. 
“Rare, eh?” queried Mr. Gottrich, who was 
looking over the collection. “Rare? Oh, yes, 
I see. Not well done!” 

A COLLATERAL BRANCH 

On meeting the new Parish Rector a dear 
old lady belonging to one of the sects said, 
“Pray, Mr. Matthews, will you tell me, please, 
just what you Episcopalians mean by the 
Apostolic Succession?” “Certainly, my dear 
madam,” replied the Rector, who was a little 
given to practical jokes. “You see, my name 
is Matthews; I am regularly descended from 
Matthew the Publican.” “O!” she answered, 
“how lovely! And how about Mr. James, the 
Rector of St. Mark’s?” “Why, don’t you 
know—James, the brother of John, sons of 
Zebedee?” “Why, yes, certainly. But, how 

56 






41*^ More LaM&hsvS^ 

about Bishop Green?” This puzzled our rev¬ 
erend friend for an instant, but only for an 
instant, for he soon brightened up and replied, 
“Why, Bishop Green derived the succession 
through his mother’s family!” 

HEROIC 

He had been courting the girl for a long 
time. It happened on Sunday night after 
church. They were sitting on the sofa, and 
she looked with ineffable tenderness into his 
noble blue eyes. 

“Tom,” she murmured, “didn’t you tell me 
once you would be willing to do any act of 
heroism for my sake?” 

“Yes, Mary, and I would gladly reiterate the 
promise now,” he replied. “No Roman of old, 
however brave, was ever fired with a loftier 
ambition or a braver resolution than am I.” 

57 




More Lavi&hs 

“Well, Tom, I want you to do something 
really heroic for me.” 

“Speak, Mary; what is it?” 

“Ask me to be your wife, Tom. We’ve been 
fooling long enough!” 

HER OWN VERSION 

A little Connecticut girl, aged two and a 
half years, was allowed to go to church on 
Christmas Sunday on condition she would not 
talk out loud, but she could join in the singing. 

The first hymn happened to be “Joy to the 
World,” sung to “Old Antioch.” She recog¬ 
nized the tune and felt her opportunity had 
come. But, unfortunately, the only words she 
associated with the tune were not the words 
of Isaac Watts. This made no difference, and 
the people in the pews in her neighborhood 
were convulsed to hear a high, childish voice 

58 






More Lau&hs 

ringing clear above the voices around her: 
“There was a man in our town and he was 
wondrous wise. He jumped into a bramble 
bush and scratched out both his eyes!” Espe¬ 
cially effective was the repeat of the last line, 
when, instead of hearing, “And Heaven, and 
Heaven and Nature sing,” they heard, “And 
scratched, and scratched out both his eyes!” 

“WATCH YOUR STEP” 

Whene’er I have to cross a street, 

I stop, and look and listen, 

For fear that I might chance to meet 
A benzine-buggy, whizzin’. 

I cock my ear, I crane my neck, 

And twist my eyes behind me: 

And afterwards it takes, by Heck, 

An hour to unwind me! 

59 





l^KyMore Laughs 

I’m growing cross-eyed, bow-legged, bum: 
My neck is on a swivel: 

But when I scoot across, by gum, 

I run just like—all sixty. 

Oh, Land o’ Freedom! How I sweat 
And how I swear at “speeders”— 

But my experience, I bet, 

Is that of all my readers. 

“Old Vet.” 

HUMOR IN THE TRENCHES 

One of the most amusing occurrences in the 
great World War, coming straight from 
the trenches in Flanders, the first Christmas 
of the war, is the following: 

The German boys had whittled a large hand 
out of a board, painted it red and stuck it up 
in front of their trench, the index finger point¬ 
ing skywards, and a placard below, reading: 
“GOTT MIT UNS 


60 





More Laughs 

The Canadians on the opposite side read the 
sign English-wise, of course, and hurried to 
put up a similar sign on their side. They 
whittled a rude hand out of a board, drew an 
old mitten over it and set it up, with a sign 
reading: 

“WE GOT MITTENS TOO!” 

A NEW USE FOR BIBLES 

The “Literary Digest” quotes an amusing 
account from a war book entitled, “Between 
the Lines,” by Boyd Cable. 

The English Bible Society having presented 
each of the Tommies in a certain Battery with 
a Bible for use at the front, when the Battery 
moved up to the fighting line all of the Bibles 
were left behind with the Battery Kit on 
reserve—all but one copy. This was duly car¬ 
ried by a man familiarly known as “Pint o’ 

61 




More La\i£hs«£>t^ 

Bass,” who used his Bible daily, as the follow¬ 
ing shows: 

‘‘Bein’ pocket Testaments, they was made 
o’ the thinnest kind o’ paper, an’ Bass tole me 
the size worked out exactly right at two fags 
to the page. ’E started on the Creation, just 
about the time o’ Mons, an’ by the time we’d 
got back to the Aisne ’e was near through 
Genesis. All the time we was workin’ up thro’ 
France again, Bass’s smokes was workin’ 
down thro’ Exodus, an’ ’e begun to worry 
about whether the Testament would carry ’im 
through the campaign. The other fellers that 
’ad their tongues ’anging out for a fag uster go 
an’ borrow a leaf o’ Bass whenever they could 
raise a bit o’ ’baccy, but at last Bass he shut 
down on these here loans. 

‘“Where’s your own Testament?’ he’d say. 
‘You was served out one same as me, wasn’t 
you? Lot o’ irreligious wasters! Got a Bible 

62 





More Laughs 

give* you an’ can’t take the trouble to carry it! 
You’d ha’ sold them Testaments at sixpence 
a sack in Woolwich, if there’d been buyers at 
that price—which there weren’t. An’ now you 
comes beggin’ a page o’ mine! Encouragin’ 
thriftlessness, as the Adjutant ’ud call it; an’, 
besides, ’ow do I know ’ow long this war’s 
goin* to last, or when I’ll see a fag or a fag- 
paper again? I’ll be a smokin’ Deuteronomy 
an’ Kings long afore we are over the Rhine, an’ 
mebbe,’ he says, turnin’ over the pages with ’is 
thumb, an’ tearin’ out the Children o’ Israel 
carefully by the roots, ‘mebbe I’ll be reduced 
to smokin’ the inscription, “To our dear Soldier 
Friend,” on the fly leaf afore I gets a chance 
to loot some baccyshop in Berlin. No,’ ’e says. 
‘No. You go an’ smoke a corner o’ “The Petit 
Journal,” an’ good enough for you, you un- 
provident, sacrilegious blighters, you—givin* 
away your own good Testaments!’ ” 

63 





More Laughs 

NOT SIR WALTER RALEIGH 

Sir Walter Raleigh, professor of English 
Literature at Oxford, recently arrived in New 
York, having been invited to lecture at Har¬ 
vard and other American universities. 

An American colleague, temporarily resi¬ 
dent in London, wrote to a friend in the 
United States to meet Sir Walter on his arrival 
on the pier at New York, but supplied no other 
description of him except that he was “a very 
tall man.” The friend has just written to Lon¬ 
don: “I watched several quite tall men come 
down the gangplank, and when I saw one who 
I thought might be Raleigh, I walked up to 
him and said, ‘Excuse me, sir; are you Sir 
Walter Raleigh?’ He happened to be a very 
typical Westerner and not the professor of 
English Literature at Oxford, as I saw when 
he replied, ‘No, sir; I am not Sir Walter 
Raleigh: I am Christopher Columbus!’ ” 

64 





<^y^More LaMfehsv^Jfjfe 

That “money talks/’ I’ll not deny: 

May be quite true: 

But—it more often says “good-bye’* 

Than “how-de-do.” 

THE AD MAN’S ILLUSTRATION 

When a duck lays an egg, she just walks off 
as if nothing had happened. 

When a hen lays an egg, there’s a whole 
world of noise. 

The hen advertises. Hence the demand for 
hens’ eggs rather than ducks’ eggs. It pays to 
advertise. See? 

BOYISH ACCURACY 

The agent approached the house. He met 
a little boy at the gate. He courteously 
inquired: 

“My little man, is your mother at home?” 

“Yes, sir, she is,” was the polite response. 

65 





More Lscu&hs ^^ty 

The agent walked across the long lawn and, 
after rapping several times without receiving 
an answer, he returned to the youth, saying: 

“I thought you said your mother was at 
home.” 

“Yes, sir, she is,” replied the boy. 

“But I have rapped several times without 
receiving an answer.” 

“That may be, sir,” said the boy. “I don’t 
live here!” 

ENOUGH TO CARRY 

A strange minister came to the Episcopal 
church at Williamsport, to speak at the meet¬ 
ing. 

“Do you wish to wear a surplice?” asked the 
rector. 

“Surplus!” cried the visitor. “Surplus! I am 
a Methodist. What do I know about sur¬ 
pluses? All I know about is a Deficit!” 

66 






More LaM&hs<^Cjy 

PREDESTINATED t 

General Stonewall Jackson, of the Confed¬ 
erate army, was once riding in an omnibus 
with a part of his staff, when Major Wells 
Hawks told this story as they rode along: 

“In early Colonial days one of the Pilgrim 
fathers was going out into the woods. He was 
carrying a gun. He met a man, who said: 

“ ‘Where are you going?* 

“ ‘I’m going out into the woods.’ 

“ ‘Why do you carry your gun?* 

“ ‘I might meet an Indian.’ 

“ ‘I thought you were a Calvinist.* 

“ ‘And so I am. I’m a Calvinist.’ 

“ ‘Don’t you believe you can’t die before 
your time comes?’ 

“ ‘Yes, I know I can’t die before my time 
comes.’ 

“ ‘Then why do you carry a gun?’ 

67 






^yg^ More LaM&ltsv>^ 

“ ‘Because I might meet an Indian whose 
time had come V 

“And Stonewall laughed.” 

RULED OUT 

Lady Southampton was once talking to the 
late Queen Victoria about the hereafter, and 
said: 

“Do you not think, Your Majesty, that one 
of the joys of the future state will not only be 
the reunion with long lost friends, but also the 
opportunity of meeting for the first time 
the noble figures of Biblical history? Is it not 
pleasant to think that Abraham will be there, 
and Isaac and Jacob? Moses will be there, 
too, and the sweet singer of Israel, David. 
Yes, he will be there, too.” 

Here the Queen pursed up her lips, shook 
her head emphatically and said: 

“No. I will positively not meet David!” 

68 





^^C^More Laughs 

TOO INQUISITIVE 

Mark Twain did not cherish any fondness 
for the office boy. He had an idea that this 
presiding genius was altogether insufferable, 
and invariably when the great humorist en¬ 
tered some business office, war was declared 
and hostilities opened between him and the 
boy. 

One day Mark went to see a friend at his 
office, and the office boy, on guard, in icy tones 
demanded: 

“Whom do you wish to see?” 

Mark mentioned his friend’s name. 

“What do you wish to see him about?” came 
next from the boy. 

Mark Twain immediately froze up and then, 
with a most genial smile he said: 

“Tell him, please, that I wish to ask his hand 
in holy matrimony.” 


69 





More Laughs 

COLD FEET 

A young man died. At least all his friends 
thought he was dead: but he was really only 
in a state of coma. When he “came to” in 
ample time to avoid being buried alive, he was 
asked how it felt to be dead? 

“Dead?” he exclaimed. “I wasn’t dead. I 
knew all the time what was going on. And 
I knew I wasn’t dead, too, because my feet 
were cold and I was hungry.” 

“But how did that fact make you think you 
were still alive?” asked one of the curious. 

“Well,” said he, “it was this way. I knew 
that if I were in heaven I wouldn’t be hungry, 
and I knew that if I were in the other place— 
my feet certainly wouldn’t be cold!” 

“BROTHER WATKINS” 

The following interesting discourse was 
delivered by a Southern Divine who had re- 

70 







More - Laughs 



moved to a new field of labor. To his new 
flock, on his first day of ministration, he gave 
some reminiscences of his former charge, as 
follows: 

“My beloved Brethering, before I take my 
text I must tell you about my parting from 
my old congregation. 

“On the morning of last Sabbath I went into 
the meeting house to preach my farewell dis¬ 
course. Just in front of me sot the old 
fathers and mothers in Israel. The tears 
coursed down their furrowed cheeks; their 
tottering forms and quivering lips breathed out 
a sad ‘Fare ye well, Brother Watkins-ah!* 

“Beneath them sot the middle-aged men and 
matrons. Health and vigor breathed from 
every countenance, and as they looked up I 
could see in their dreamy eyes—‘Fare ye well, 
Brother Watkins-ah!* 

“Behind them sot the boys and girls that 

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^fe*More Laughs 

I had baptized and gathered into the Sabbath 
school. Many times had they been rude and 
boisterous, but now their merry laugh was 
hushed, and in the silence I could hear—‘Fare 
ye well, Brother Watkins-ah!’ 

“Around the back seats and in the aisles stood 
and sot the colored brethering, with their black 
faces and honest hearts; and as I looked upon 
them I could see—‘Fare ye well, Brother 
Watkins-ah !’ 

“When I had finished my discourse and 
shaken hands with the Brethering-ah, I passed 
out to take a last look at the old church-ah! 
The broken steps, the flopping blinds and 
moss-covered roof suggested only—‘Fare ye 
well, Brother Watkins-ah!’ 

“I mounted my old gray mare, with all my 
earthly possessions in my saddle-bags, and, as 
I passed down the street, the servant girls 
stood in the doors and with their brooms 

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More Laughs 

waved me a—‘Fare ye well, Brother Wat- 
kins-ah P 

“As I passed out of the village the low wind 
blew softly through the waving branches of 
the trees and moaned—‘Fare ye well, Brother 
Watkins-ah P 

“I came down to the creek, and as the old 
mare stopped to drink I could hear the water 
rippling over the pebbles a ‘Fare ye well, 
Brother Watkins-ah P 

“And even the little fishes, as their bright 
fins glistened in the sunlight, I thought, gath¬ 
ered around to say as best they could—‘Fare 
ye well, Brother Watkins-ah!’ 

“I was slowly passing up the hill, meditating 
upon the sad vicissitudes and mutations of 
life, when suddenly out bounded a big hog 
from a fence-corner, with ‘Ahoo! Ahoo P—and 
I came to the ground with my saddle-bags by 
my side. As I lay in the dust of the road my 

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More 

old gray mare ran up the hill, and as she 
turned the top she waved her tail back at me, 
seemingly to say—‘Fare ye well, Brother 
Watkins-ah !’ 

“I tell you, my Brethering, it is affecting 
times to part with a congregation you have 
been with for over thirty years-ah!” 

WHAT A PITY! 

In the southern part of Arkansas, where the 
natives take things easy, a man and his wife 
were sitting on their porch, when a funeral 
procession passed their house. The man was 
comfortably seated in a chair that was tilted 
against the house and was whittling a piece 
of wood. As the procession passed he said: 

“I reckon ole man Williams has got about 
the biggest funeral that’s ever been held 
around yere, Car’line.” 



74 





More 

“A purty good-sized one, is it, Bud?” 
queried the wife, making no effort to move. 

“It certainly is,” Bud replied. 

“I surely would like to see it,” said the 
woman. “What a pity I ain’t facin’ that way!” 

“AUNT JEMIMA’S COURTSHIP” 

Father and I were sitting in the house sorter 
quiet and still, when father says to me, 
“Jemima,” and I sez sez I, “What, sir?” And he 
sez, “Wasn’t there a rap at the door?” And 
I sez sez I, “No, sir.” 

Arter a while father sez, “Jemima,” and I 
sez sez I, “What, sir?” And he sez sez he, 
“Are you sure?” And I sez sez I, “Not ex¬ 
actly.” So I opened the door—and there stood 
a man. 

The man came in. The man he talked, and 
father he talked. They talked about the farms, 

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More 

they talked about the crops, they talked about 
politics and about all other kinds of ticks. 

Arter a while father he sez to me, “Jemima,” 
and I sez sez I, “What, sir?” And he sez sez 
he, “Can't we have some cider?” And I sez 
sez I, “I suppose so.” I goes to the cellar and 
draws a pitcher of cider. 

The man he drinks, and father he drinks. 
And by and by father he sez sez he, “Jemima.” 
And I sez sez I, “What, sir?” And he sez 
sez he, “I suppose it's soon time I am thinking 
about going to bed!” And I sez sez I, “You 
are the best judge of that yourself.” 

So I got his slippers and dressing gown, and 
he prepares and goes to bed. And there sot 
that man and I. 

My heart was in my throat. Sez he to me, 
“Jemima.” And I sez sez I, “What, sir?” And 
he sez sez he, “Will you have me?” And I sez 
sez I, “No, sir.” 


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4jtey~More LaMfths«£%§: 

He begun hitchin* his cheer up close. Sez 
he, “Jemima.” And I sez sez I, “What, sir?” 
And he sez sez he, “Will you have me?” And 
I sez sez I, “NO, SIR!” 

By that time he had both his arms around 
my waist—and I didn’t have the heart to take 
them away. 

Sez he to me, “Jemima.” And I sez sez I, 
“What, sir?” And he sez sez he, “For the 
third and last time—I shan’t ask you again— 
WILL YOU HAVE ME?” 

And I sez, sez I, “YES, SIR!”—for I didn’t 
know what else to say, sir. 

A FINGER IN THE PIE 

The old Scotch Professor was trying to 
impress upon his students the value and im¬ 
portance of the habit of observation. 

“No,” he complained, “ye dinna use your 

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ffQMore Lau&hsv5^ 

faculties of observation. Ye have them, but 
ye dinna use them. For instance-” 

Picking up a pot of chemicals of a horrible 
odor, he stuck his finger into it, and his finger 
then into his mouth. 

“Taste of it, gentlemen,” he commanded, as 
he passed the pot from student to student. 

After each had licked a finger, and had felt 
a rebellion through his whole soul, the old 
Professor laughed in triumph: 

“I told ye so!” he shouted. “Ye dinna use 
your faculties of observation. For, if ye had 
observed ye would ha* seen that the finger 
which I stuck into the pot was na* the 
finger which I stuck into my mouth!” 


ALL THINGS TO ALL-WOMEN 

A lady stopping at a hotel on the Pacific 
coast rang the bell the first morning of her 

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More Laughs 

arrival, and was very much surprised when a 
Japanese boy opened the door and came in. 

“I pushed the button three times for a maid,” 
she said sternly, as she dived under the bed 
covers. 

“Yes,” blandly replied the little fellow, “Me 
she!” 

HIS WEATHER EYE 
Two ladies were hurrying down the street 
in the rain, carrying their umbrellas low for 
protection. In turning a corner sharply, the 
point of one umbrella struck a passer-by in 
the forehead. 

“Goodness!” exclaimed the woman, “I’ll 
keep an eye out in the future.” 

“Thank you, madam,” exclaimed the man. 
“You nearly had one out in the present.” 

“Smoke these cigars. You can’t get better!” 
So a sign read in a downtown store. And the 

79 







More Laughs 


sign told the simple truth, for I smoked one, 
and I couldn’t get better. In fact, I got worse 
the longer I smoked it. 

ALL DEPENDS ON HOW YOU 
SPELL IT 

He was a bashful young man, and he was 
invited to dinner, and he was paired with the 
most beautiful young woman in the party. 
His seat at the table was in front of the roast 
fowl, which he was to carve. And there was 
also a fried sole in front of him. And he had 
never done any carving in his life, for he was 
a bachelor. 

But he made the best of the situation by 
asking the lady at his side “what she would 
have?” 

“A little of the sole,” she replied. 

He began to cut off a slice of the chicken 
breast. 


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More.' Laughs. 

“No, no, the sole,” she whispered. 

Now—where was the soul of a hen? He 
thought for a minute, and then attacked the 
wing. 

“The sole, the sole!” cried the lady. 

He looked for the feet, but no soles were 
left, so he tried a drumstick. But she still 
shook her head and said, “No, I only want a 
piece of the sole.” 

Then the young man rose in his wrath, 
stuck a fork through the fowl and put the 
whole business on the woman’s plate. 

“Take it!” he shouted, “take it, body, soul 
and all, for I give it up!” 

Then he helped himself to the fish, and to 
some of the white meat of the chicken, and sat 
back and had a good time, like a sensible man. 


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More LaM&hs<^jfjy 

WHOLE SOLED 

Tennyson would have seen nothing for lam¬ 
entation in the report that the store boots of 
the French army are thirty years old. For the 
poet clung to his old boots, and William Ailing- 
ham, in his diary for 1881, noted: 

“Browning dined at Tennyson’s last night. 
Tennyson in great force. He said, ‘This pair 
of dress boots is forty years old.’ We looked 
at them, and I said it was a good evidence of 
the immortality of the sole!” 



The Grocer: “Hey, there! What are you 
running so fast for, sonny?” 

The Boy: “I’m tryin’ to keep two fellers 
from fightin’.” 

The Grocer: “And, who are the fellows?” 
The Boy: “Why, Bill Perkins and me.” 

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More Lau£hs«£^[^ 


MADE HIM HOMESICK 

A man walking into a restaurant inadver¬ 
tently left the door open. Another man, who 
was eating his lunch, immediately yelled: 

“Shut the door, you fool! Where were you 
raised—in a barn?” 

The man who had left the door open sub¬ 
missively closed it and, dropping into a seat, 
buried his face in his hands and began to 
weep. 

Then the big man began to look uncomfort¬ 
able and, finally rising, walked up to the 
weeper and tapped him on the shoulder. 

“My friend,” he said, “I didn’t intend to hurt 
your feelings. I just wanted you to close the 
door.” 

The man who was weeping raised his head 
and grinned. 

“Old man,” he said, “I’m not crying because 

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^K^ More Laxifths -cX§ 

you hurt my feelings, but because you asked 
me if I was raised in a barn. The fact is, I was 
raised in a barn, and every time I hear an ass 
bray it makes me homesick.” 

EVER BEEN THERE YOURSELF? 

The magistrate had before him a negro 
woman charged with inhuman treatment of 
her child. 

The evidence was clear and abundant that 
the woman had severely beaten the youngster, 
about nine years old, who was in court to pro¬ 
duce his battered condition. 

Before imposing sentence his Honor asked 
the woman whether she had anything to say 
in her own defense. 

“Kin I ax yo’ Honah a question?” inquired 
the prisoner. 

“Go ahead,” said the Judge, and all the court 
room listened. 


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More Laughs 

1 *———^■i^—ssss^Eg^^ 


“Well, then, yo’ Honah, I’d like to ax yo’ 
whether yo’ was evah the parient of such a 
puffeckly wuthless culled chile?” 


“NE QUID NIMIS” 

Donald was an old Scotch beadle who offi¬ 
ciated in a highland kirk where the minister, 
never a bright star at any time, was given to 
long and rambling sermons. A stranger once 
asked him his opinion of the sermons. 

“Ah, weel,” replied Donald, “ye’ll no get me 
to say aught against them, for they’re a’ verra 
guid; but I’ll just remark this much—the be- 
ginnin’ is aye ower far fro’ the endin’, and it 
wad greatly improve the force o’ it if he left 
out a’ that com’ in atween.” 


HOW TO WRITE A SERMON 

It looks easy, but it isn’t. A woman once 
said, “I don’t think it is hard to prepare a 


85 







More L&u&hs 


sermon. I could easily do it if I once had a 
text.” And then a bystanding clergyman said, 
“Madam, I will give you a text. The text is 
this, “It is better to dwell in the corner of a 
housetop alone than in a large room with a 
brawling woman.” “Do you mean me?” she 
at once exclaimed with a threatening de¬ 
meanor. “No, madam,” was the quiet reply, 
“I well see that you do not at all understand 
the fine art involved in the construction of a 
sermon—you are entirely too quick in your 
application!” 

At a Lay Preachers’ conference an expert 
layman was telling his method of preparing a 
sermon. 

“First, I take my text. Then I divide it into 
three parts. In the first part I tell them what 
I am going to tell them in the second part. In 
the second part I tell them what I told them 
I was going to tell them in the first part. And 

86 





La\t&hs 

in the third part I tell them what I told them 
in the second part.” 

LIFTING THE BISHOP 

During an Episcopal convention in Boston 
one of the bishops had an experience he will 
long remember. He was a portly man, weigh¬ 
ing over three hundred pounds. One after¬ 
noon while walking through Boston Common 
he sat down on one of the benches to rest. 
The bench was low and he was fat, and when 
he attempted to get up he failed in the effort. 
He tried again and failed. A poorly clad little 
girl coming along was attracted by the strug¬ 
gles of the Bishop and said, “Sha’n’t I give 
you a lift?” 

The Bishop gazed at her in amazement and 
exclaimed: 

‘‘Why, you can’t help me. You are too 
little.” 


87 





4K> More LaMghs ^^ 

“No, I am not,” she reassured him. “I have 
helped my Pa get up many times when he 
was a great deal drunker’n you are!” 

A PISCATORIAL LIMERICK 

“A man may chin 
And a man may work 
For the temperance cause all day: 

But he can’t go a fishin’ 

And observe prohibition, 

Because he ain’t built that way!” 

’WARE THE ADJECTIVE! 

A certain player who was a great stickler 
for correct English both on and off the stage, 
and who never lost an opportunity to put the 
erring on the right track in this respect, one 
afternoon walked into a New York drug store 
and stated to a clerk his need, a man’s comb. 

88 





Laughs <5^ 

“Do you want a narrow man’s comb?” asked 
the clerk. 

“No,” said the customer, with the utmost 
gravity, “What I desire is a comb for a stout 
man with rubber teeth.” 

“OH, BEG PARDON!” 

Speaking of Bernard Shaw, a dramatic critic 
laughed heartily. Said he: “Shaw is cer¬ 
tainly amazing. He always does the original 
thing. I went with him once to see ‘Caesar 
and Cleopatra,’ and as we stood in the aisle, 
for the house was crowded, a stranger behind 
us persisted in poking his head right over 
Shaw’s shoulder. 

“It was then that Shaw did the original 
thing. Taking out his handkerchief, he wiped 
the man’s nose, patting and twisting it pretty 
vigorously. 


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More Laughs 

“The man, with an ugly oath, jerked back 
his head storming mad. 

“ ‘Oh, I beg your pardon/ said Shaw, T 
thought it was mine, don’t you know!’ ” 

“IS THAT THE LORD?” 

“One morning,” says a lady, “when we were 
getting ready for church, I gave my three- 
year-old son, Tommy, a dime to put in the 
collection. He looked at it and inquired, 
‘Mamma, why must we take money to 
church?’ I told him that we took it there 
to give to the Lord. 

“Now it chanced that the deacon who took 
up the collection on our side of the church was 
a very homely man and of a very sour and 
forbidding countenance. When he came to 
our pew with the plate Tommy dropped his 
dime into it with a most inquiring look at the 

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^Cfo^More LaM^hs 

austere man, and then sidled up to me and 
said, in a voice that could be heard all over 
that part of the church, ‘Mamma, was that the 
Lord?’ ” 

And here is another “along the same line.” 
A little girl, traveling for the first time in a 
sleeping car with her parents, greatly objected 
to being put in an upper berth. She was 
assured that papa, mamma and God would 
watch over her. She was settled in her berth 
at last and the other passengers were quiet 
for the night, when a small voice piped: 

“Mamma!” 

“Yes, dear.” 

“You there?” 

“Yes, I’m here. Now, go to sleep.” 

“Papa, you there?” 

“Yes, I’m here. Go to sleep like a good 
girl.” 

This continued at intervals for some time, 

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^yg’More La\i&hs,<3^ 

until a fellow passenger lost all patience and 
called out vigorously: 

“We’re all here! Your father and mother 
and brothers and sisters and uncles and aunts 
and first cousins. All here. Now, go to 
sleep!” 

After this explosion there was a brief pause. 
Then the tiny voice piped up again, but very 
softly : 

. “Mamma!” 

“Well?” 

“Was that God?” 

MIXED 

Three smart young men and three nice girls— 
All lovers true as steel— 

Decided in a friendly way 
To spend the day awheel. 

They started in the early morn, 

And nothing seemed amiss; 

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4!]to- More Laughs 

And when they reached the leafy lanes 
They in like 

rode twos this! 

They wandered by the verdant dale, 

Beside the rippling rill: 

The sun shone brightly all the while: 

They heard the song bird’s trill. 

They sped through many a woodland glade, 
The world was full of bliss— 

And when they rested in the shade, 

Theysat intwos likethis! 

The sun went down and evening came, 

A lot too soon, they said; 

Too long they tarried on the way, 

The clouds grew black o’erhead. 

Down dashed the rain! They homeward flew, 
Till one unlucky miss 

Slipped sideways—Crash! Great Scott! 

The lot wereallmixeduplikethis! 

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More La\i&hs <5^y 

SHE FOUND IT 

George Ade was talking about his last visit 
to London. 

“I like to knock about London alone,” he 
said, “studying the places of historical inter¬ 
est: and at this kindly Christmas season I 
remember with particular pleasure a good deed 
that I performed at one of London’s historic 
landmarks for a Chicago woman. 

“It was a rainy fall day, and I sat over a 
beefsteak pudding and a mug of beer at the 
Cheshire Cheese on Fleet Street. 

“The Chicago woman entered, ‘Boswell’s 
Johnson’ in her hand. The Cheshire Cheese 
was, you know, Johnson’s favorite tavern, and 
the woman had been told that the great man’s 
autograph could still be seen, penciled on one 
of the walls. 

“The waiters told her they knew of no such 

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<&fc*More La\i&hs«g>ffe 

autograph, but the woman, with dauntless 
Chicago spirit, began a long, long search up 
stairs and down. 

“While she was upstairs a warm glow of 
benevolence suddenly arose in my breast and, 
taking a pencil from my pocket, I wrote with 
quaint Eighteenth Century flourishes on the 
wall behind me— 

“‘SAM JOHNSON.’ ” 

“The Woman, on her return from upstairs, 
spied the autograph, and was overjoyed. Is it 
not amazing how much happiness we can give 
to others by these little acts of kindness?” 

WHICH? 

A very pretty but extremely slender girl 
entered a street car and managed to seat her¬ 
self in a very narrow space between two men. 
Presently a very portly colored “mammy” 
entered the car, and the pretty miss, thinking 

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^JNryMore La\i&hs«^f§T 

to humiliate the men for their lack of gal¬ 
lantry, arose. 

“Aunty,” she said, with a wave of her hand 
toward the place she had just vacated, “take 
my seat.” 

“Thank you, Missy,” replied the colored 
woman, smiling broadly, “but—which gentle¬ 
man’s lap was you a settin’ on?” 

BAFFLED 

He was a young German, and was under 
cross-examination in court. The questioning 
began: 

“Now, Muller, what do you do?” 

“Ven?” asked the German. 

“When you work, of course,” said the 
lawyer. 

“Vy, I work-” 

“I know,” said the lawyer, “but what at?” 

“At a bench,” said Muller. 

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More 

‘‘Oh,” groaned the lawyer. “Where do you 
work at a bench ?” 

“In a factory.” 

“What kind of a factory?” 

“Brick.” 

“You make bricks?” 

“No. De factory, dot iss made of bricks.” 
“Now, Muller, listen,” said the lawyer: 
“what do you make in that factory?” 

“I make eight dollars a veek.” 

“No, no. What does the factory make?” 
“De factory makes a lot of money.” 

“Now, listen. What kind of goods does the 
factory make?” 

“Oh,” said the German, “dey make goot 
goods.” 

“I know—but what kind of goods?” 

“De best dere iss.” 

“The best of what?” 

“Didn’t I tell you? De best dere iss.” 

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More Lau&hs 




“Of what?” 

“Of dose goods.” 

“Your honor,” said the lawyer, “I give 
him up!” 

A RINGING FAREWELL 

Once upon a time an English journalist was 
visiting in Washington. He had the pro¬ 
verbial British obtuseness when it came to 
getting to the point of a joke, and the news¬ 
paper men at the capital had a good deal of 
fun at his expense. But he was a good fellow 
and when he was leaving the boys gave him 
a dinner. 

When the time for the speeches arrived, the 
toastmaster spoke of the pleasure the English¬ 
man’s visit had given all present, and the 
regret that all felt at his departure. In con¬ 
clusion he said, without a twinkle of the eye: 

“And now it becomes my duty to see that 

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4te*More Laughs 

you do not leave us without something to 
remember us by. In behalf of The Press Club 
I now present you with this ring.” 

Then, leaning across the table, he struck a 
silver call-bell that had been placed between 
him and the guest. Everybody laughed but 
the latter. And then, to everybody’s surprise, 
he arose in his place, picked up the bell, ad¬ 
mired it—and put it in his pocket! Then he 
cleared his throat and there was silence for 
his speech. 

“Ah—er—gentlemen, I thank you for this 
charming—ah—gift. I am not a public speaker, 
and so I am a bit embarrassed. But—ha—ha! 
I know why you all laugh. Your—ah—chair¬ 
man was just as embarrassed as I am. He 
gave me this pretty bell, you know, and he got 
confused and he said it was a ring! By Jove, 
ah—I must try to remember that and tell it 
when I get home.” 


99 





More Lavishs 

HOME, SWEET HOME 

An artist had just given the last touches to 
a purple and blue canvas when his young wife 
came into the studio. 

“This is the landscape I wanted you to sug¬ 
gest a title for, dear,” said he, standing aside 
and proudly surveying his work. 

“Why not call it ‘Home’?” said she after a 
reflective look. 

“ ‘Home’?” queried he: “and why would you 
call it ‘Home’?” 

“Because there is no place like it!” ex¬ 
claimed she as she fled upstairs. 

ONE ON THE BISHOP 

There was a certain bishop who had a 
pleasant habit of chatting with anybody he 
chanced to meet during his country walks. 
One day he came across a lad who was looking 
after some pigs by the roadside, and the bishop 

100 





More La\i&hs «£5^ 

paused to ask what he was doing, that being 
his usual method of opening a conversation. 

“Moindin’ swoine,” the lad replied stolidly. 

The bishop nodded his head thoughtfully. 

“And how much do you earn a week?” he 
asked. 

“Two shilling,” was the reply. 

“Only two shillings for a whole week’s 
work?” he remarked with evident pity for the 
poor boy. Then he continued pleasantly: 

“I, too, am a shepherd, but I get more than 
two shillings.” 

Then the lad looked at him suspiciously for 
a minute and remarked: 

“Mebbe you gets more swoine nor me to 
moind?” 



ONE ON THE PREACHER 

A retired clergyman is fond of telling this 
good one on himself. He used to officiate as 

101 





More Lavi&hsv^^ 

a vacation supply in a suburban church. One 
Sunday he was accosted by an old lady, a 
housekeeper in the employ of a friend. 

“I want to tell you, sir,” said she, “how 
much I enjoy going to church on the days 
when you preach.” 

The clergyman said he was very highly 
gratified to hear it. 

“For, you see, sir,” she added with appalling 
candor, “you see, I get such a good seat then!” 

HE STOPPED THEM 

“Thou art weighed in the balance and found 
wanting,” was the text of a very long and 
tedious sermon. After an hour of it some 
became weary and departed, greatly to the 
annoyance of the preacher. But he went on 
until another bunch started for the door, and 
then he paused and announced: “That’s right, 

102 





More Lau&hs 




my friends. As fast as you are weighed, pass 
out!” He was not disturbed again. 

A POETICAL TAIL 

In days of old, 

When nights were cold, 

And I was but a kid, 

I spied a tail 
Just off the trail— 

And this is what I did: 

I grabbed the tail 
And with a rail 
I smashed his lid 
I smashed his trunk— 

t»t ;>?? tu ??? 

••• ••• ••• • • • 

Gee Whiz!—It was a skunk! 

CAUGHT A TARTAR 

George Clark, a celebrated negro minstrel, 
when being examined on one occasion as a 

103 





More Laughs <5^ 

witness, was severely interrogated by a lawyer. 

“You are in the minstrel business, I be¬ 
lieve ?” inquired the lawyer. “Yes, sir,” was 
the meek reply. 

“Is not that rather a low calling?” queried 
the tormentor. 

“I don’t know but it may be, sir,” replied 
the minstrel, “but it is so much better than my 
father’s that I am rather proud of it.” 

And then the lawyer fell into the trap, say¬ 
ing, “And what was your father’s calling?” 

“He was a lawyer, sir, same as you, sir,” 
replied Clark, as the court roared, and the 
lawyer sat down. 

SECTIONAL SALVAGE 

The late Police Captain William H. Hodg¬ 
kins, of New York, who died from cardiac 
strain that he brought on by trying to reduce 
his weight over fifty pounds in three weeks, 

104 





More Laughs 

hated corpulence, and often regaled his friends 
with anecdotes having adiposity for their butt. 

“I went to a melodrama the other night,” he 
said to a gathering of his friends. “The hero¬ 
ine was fat, fatter than I am, and you see what 
that is. 

“In the second act she fell overboard, and 
the hero, who was a little, scrawny chap, 
plunged after her and seemed to be having a 
good deal of difficulty in swimming with her 
toward the yacht. As the hero splashed and 
struggled under his heavy burden, a god yelled 
from the gallery: 

“ ‘You’ll never do it that way, boy. Save 
what you can now, and come back for the 
rest V ” 

“CHECK!” 

Apropos of the European war, A. L. Red- 
ford, of the Society of the War of 1812 , tells 
the following: 


105 






More Laughs 

iw^Mi i W^-iM^ i iw i Ti ii rii ni m w—^ wJSmLSmSI 

A Hartford man had a spendthrift son who 
enlisted for the war, and after he had been on 
active service for a month or two he ran out 
of money. 

So, in order to get the cash for champagne 
and Egyptian cigarettes and other warlike 
luxuries, he wired home to his father: 

“Leg shot off in last engagement. Send 
funds for artificial leg.” 

The father’s wire came promptly back, and 
read, “Wooden leg goes forward per Express. 
If it doesn’t fit, get camp carpenter to plane it 
down!” 


A WEARY CONSCIENCE 

The ragged wayfarer trudged up the garden 
path bathed in the sunshine and took off his 
hat to the lady at the door. She eyed him 
keenly and a look of recognition passed over 
her countenance. 


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More Lavishs 

‘‘Look here,” she said, “you called at this 
house in the middle of winter.” 

“I did, ma’am,” he sorrowfully admitted. 

“And I gave you a good meal on condition 
that you swept the snow out of my back 
yard.” 

“Correct, ma’am. I acknowledge the corn.” 

“And when you had the meal, you went off 
and didn’t do the work. Do you think that 
was right?” 

The man passed the back of his hand tremu¬ 
lously across his eyes. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said brokenly, “that’s all 
so. And my conscience smote me. And that’s 
why I’ve tramped all this weary way back, 
under this hot and scorching sun, to finish the 
job. You must just give me a shovel and a 
pie, and watch me make the old snow fly!” 


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More 

A BULKY, BALKY BOOK 

“Wa’al, some ways I’d like to an’ some ways 
I guess I wouldn’t,” said honest old Farmer 
Flaxseed, when the suave dispenser of encyclo¬ 
pedias had paused for breath in his siren song. 

“Ye see, if I was to sign fer that ’ere cyclo- 
pedee, in forty-seven parts, includin’ the Index 
an’ Appendicitis, I’m sorter afeard I’d git too 
tired tryin* to read it: while, if I read it at my 
leesure, as I’d ort to, in order to git the good 
out of it, I wouldn’t have enny time left to 
work an’ earn enough money to pay fer it. So, 
all things considered, I reckon I’ll hev to deny 
myself the privilege, as it were. Looks sorter 
like rain off to the Northwest, don’t it?” 

DIDN’T KNOW SHEEP 

When the young woman from the city went 
out into the country to teach school, she found 

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More La\ighs«^|^ 

that there are some things not taught in the 
city schools. The class in arithmetic was 
before her. She said: 

“Now, children, if there are ten sheep on one 
side of a wall and one sheep jumps over, how 
many sheep will be left?” 

Then up piped the little tow-headed daugh¬ 
ter of a farmer: 

“No sheep, teacher: no sheep.” 

“Oh, oh,” cried the young teacher from the 
city, reproachfully, “you are not so stupid as 
that. Think again. If there were ten sheep 
on one side of the wall, and one sheep jumped 
over, nine sheep would be left. Don’t you see 
that?” 

“No, no, no!” persisted the child. “If one 
sheep jumped over, all the others would jump 
after. My father keeps sheep.” 

Then, seeing the puzzled look on the 

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'gyg- More Laughs 

teacher’s face, the little tow-head added apolo¬ 
getically : 

“You know arithmetic, teacher, but I know 
sheep!” 

ZOO-LOGICAL 

Another teacher had been explaining to her 
class about the three kingdoms of nature—the 
vegetable, the mineral and the animal. When 
she had finished, she said to the class: 

“Now, who can tell me what the highest 
degree of animal life is?” 

At this a little girl in the rear row of seats 
raised her hand and replied: 

“The highest degree of animal life is the 
giraffe!” 

Still another teacher was in charge of a class 
of small children in English Grammar, and 
was trying to explain to them the difference 
between a common and an abstract noun. 
“An example of a common noun,” said she, “is 

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More Laughs 

dog, for you can see it. But an abstract noun 
names something that you cannot see. For 
instance, have any of you ever seen abun¬ 
dance?” 

After a brief silence, during which the keen 
little wits were busy, a boy arose and said: 

“Please, ma’am, I have never seen a bun 
dance, but I have seen a cake walk!” 

NOT A COMEBACK 

They were on an express train bound for 
the seashore, the German gentleman and his 
young son, Fritz. 

While Fritz was snoozing, his father, who 
occupied the window seat, seized Fritz’s cap 
and seemingly threw it out of the window. 

“Ach, yah!” the joking father said, “Your 
cap iss now on de outside gone avay. Aber, 
never mind dot, Fritzy. I’ll vistle, undt it’ll 
come on de inside again mit quickness.” 

Ill 






More Laughs 

The father whistled, and at the same mo¬ 
ment deftly placed the cap on his attentive 
son’s head. Fritz was speechless with won¬ 
derment. He pulled the cap off his head and 
gazed at it and at his father in admiring 
astonishment. By and by the train neared a 
bridge. Then the little chap had an inspi¬ 
ration. Watching his chance, he tipped his 
daddy’s beaver out of the window with a shout 
of delight, exclaiming: 

“Vistle again, fader; vistle again. I want to 
see it come back.” 


NEXT! 

A fool was walking through a field. He 
came upon a rock on the face of which was 
written in chalk—“Turn me over!” 

With visions of hidden treasure, and with 
great exertion and difficulty, he rolled the big 
rock over—only to read on the reverse side, 

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More Lau&hs 



“Now, turn me back again, so I may catch 
another fool!” 


PATRIOTIC 

The class of boys was being examined in 
ancient history. 

“Who was the first man?” asked the 
teacher. 

“Washington,” answered a bright boy, “first 

in war, first in peace, first in-” 

“Wrong,” corrected the teacher. “Adam 
was the first man.” 

“Oh,” sniffed the pupil with evident dis¬ 
gust, “if you are talking about foreigners—!” 

DID YOU EVER SING THIS? 

Long-tailed rat in a bucket o’ souse, 
Sing-song-Polly-witchee-ki-mee-o! 

Just come down from the Dutchman’s house, 
Sing-song-Polly-witchee-ki-mee-o! 

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^fC^More Lecvi&hs 

Rats an’ mice is a-gettin’ mighty bold, 
Sing-song-Polly-witchee-ki-mee-o! 

Skippers in the cheese just nine days old, 
Sing-song-Polly-witchee-ki-mee-o! 

Cho-Kree-mo, kri-mo, dora-wah, homa hima, 
Rum-sich-a-pummiddle: such a pack o’ 
Pennywinkle, minne-come a nischkat: 
Sing-song-Polly-witchee-ki-mee-o! 

‘‘REEL IN!” 

For the purpose of advertising fishing rods 
a shopkeeper had hung a large rod outside his 
shop carrying an artificial fish on the end of 
it. Late one night a society gentleman, who 
had been dining a trifle too well, happened 
along and spied the fish. Being of a piscatorial 
turn, and the fish looking quite large and 
worthy of being saved, he went cautiously to 
the door and gently knocked. 

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^fe>More La\i&hs«£>f|r 

“Who’s there?” sharply demanded the shop¬ 
man from an upper window. 

“Sh-h!” was the whispered answer. “Don’t 
make a noise but come down as quick as you 
can.” 

Thinking something serious was the matter, 
the man dressed in all haste and stole down¬ 
stairs to the shop door. 

“Now,” said he, “what is it?” 

“Hist!” said the other. “Pull in your line 
quick: you got a bite.” 

AN IMPORTANT OMISSION 

A lawyer for a railway company once had to 
defend his employers from the charge of negli¬ 
gence in the case of a farmer whose produce 
cart was demolished at a grade crossing, not 
without injury to the farmer himself, who was 
driving the cart. 


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<Q^More La\ighs«£^ 

The accident happened at night, and the 
principal witness was an old colored man who 
was on guard at the time of the accident at 
the crossing, armed with a lantern to signal the 
approach of trains. 

“Now, John,” said the lawyer, “did you 
swing your lantern when you saw the cart 
coming?” 

“Yassir, I cut’nly did, suh. I done swung 
dat lantern right crost de road.” 

On the strength of this testimony the lawyer 
won his case. He took occasion afterward to 
thank the witness. 

“Much obleeged to yo’, Mars Torm,” replied 
that worthy. “I’se awful glad I could he’p yo\ 
But I was plum scairt dat other lawyer gwine 
ax me if dat lantern was lit!” 


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^Jgj-More Lavifths 

VACUUM THEOLOGY 

A colored Baptist was exhorting, “Now, 
breddern an’ sistern, come right up to de altar 
an’ hab yo’ sins washed away.” 

All came but one man. 

“Why, Bruddah Jones, don’ yo’ want yo’ 
sins washed away?” 

“I done gone had my sins washed away.” 

“Yo’ has? Whar yo’ had yo’ sins washed 
away ?” 

“Ober at de Methodis’ Chu’ch.” 

“Ah, Bruddah Jones, yo’ ain’t been washed: 
yo’ jess been dry cleaned!” 

AN UNFORTUNATE INTRODUCTION 

“Now, breddern,” said the parson in intro¬ 
ducing a visiting minister, “I take pleasure in 
introducin’ to yo’ Bruddah Blank, who will 
address us on de subject’ o’ ‘De Debbil,’ and 

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4^^ More LaM&hs«£5%^ 

I kin assure yo’ de Bruddah am full o’ his 
subjec’.” 

POISON IVY 

A man, evidently a laborer, was sitting in a 
railroad station, puffing contentedly on his 
comforting corncob, when a woman entered 
and sat down beside him, although there were 
plenty of other seats in the room. Presently 
she gave a sniff and, turning toward him, 
snapped out, “Sir, if you were a gentleman, 
you would not smoke here.” 

“Mum,” said he, “if ye wuz a lady ye’d sit 
further away.” 

Pretty soon the woman burst out again 
with, “If you were my husband, I’d give you 
poison.” 

Quick as a flash came the answer from the 
Irishman, as he puffed away at his pipe, “An’ 
if ye wuz me wife, I’d take it, begorry!” 

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More Laughs 

TIT FOR TAT 

When Paderewski was in Boston he was 
approached by a bootblack who called out to 
him, “Shine?” 

The great pianist looked down at the youth, 
whose face was streaked with grime, and said: 

“No, my lad, but if you will wash your face 
I will give you a quarter.” 

“All right!” exclaimed the youth, who forth¬ 
with ran to a neighboring trough and quickly 
made his ablutions. 

When he returned Paderewski held out .the 
quarter, which the boy took but immediately 
handed back, saying: 

“Here, mister, you keep it yourself an’ go 
an* get yer hair cut!” 

BY THE YARD ONLY 

An Irishman, passing a shop where a sign 
was displayed saying that everything in the 

119 





shop was sold by the yard, thought he would 
play a joke on the shopman. He entered the 
shop and asked for a yard of milk. The shop¬ 
man, not in the least taken aback, dipt his 
fingers in a bowl of milk and drew a line a yard 
long on the counter. Pat, not wishing to be 
caught in his own trap, asked the price. 

“Sixpence,” said the shopman. 

“All right, sorr,” said Pat. “Roll it up an’ 
I’ll take it!” 

COMPLIMENTS 

He who fishes for compliments may some¬ 
times get a bite. A rector in South London 
was visiting one of his poorer parishioners, an 
old woman, afflicted with deafness. She ex¬ 
pressed her great regret at not being able to 
hear his sermons. Desiring to be sympathetic 
and to say something consoling, he replied 
with much self-depreciation, “You don’t miss 

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<gK^More LaM&hs <£^j^ 

much, Mother.” “So they tell me,” was the 
unexpected reply. 

A colored preacher was introducing a bishop 
to the people of the First African Methodist 
Church of Nola Chucky. 

“Breddern an’ sistern,” he began, “dis 
famous bishop is de greatest bishop in de 
world. He knows de unknowable, he can do 
de undoable, an’ he can unscrew de unscru- 
table. Pray for him.” 

s’ 

AT THE BAR 

The cockney solicitor was characteristically 
mixed up in the use of his “H’s,” of course. 
He happened to meet one of the wits of the 
American bar. 

The Englishman, commenting on the legal 
profession of Philadelphia, said that the mem¬ 
bers were very proficient and learned, but that 

121 





^ygj*More Lau&lis 

they were absolutely ignorant on the subject 
of “hentails.” 

“Ah,” answered the American, “My dear sir, 
we may be ignorant of the ‘hentail,’ that I will 
admit: but our knowledge of the ‘cocktail’ is 
quite unsurpassed.” 

A SIMPLE SOLUTION 

The following question was put to some 
young pupils in a public school: 

“There is a family of five children. The 
mother has only four potatoes to divide 
amongst them. She wants to give each child 
an equal share. What is she to do?” 

Silence prevailed in the classroom: every 
pupil was calculating diligently. Finally one 
boy put up his hand. “Well, Sammy, what 
would you do?” asked the teacher. “Mash the 
potatoes, ma’am!” 


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^fe^More L&m&Iis 

MISTER JINKS 

Mister Jinks is a dealer in inks: 

But he deals with no printer, 

In summer or winter— 

Mister Jinks is a masculine minx. 

By the hour he sits and he thinks, 

Till his pal comes along 
With whistle and song— 

And then Mister Jinks he winks. 

“We’re going to play ball on the links: 
Won’t be home till it’s late”— 

And he closes the gate: 

Next morning their noses are pinks. 

Oh, no! Mister Jinks never drinks: 
But he winks and he blinks 
As he sits and he thinks 
Of high jinks on the links— 

Mister Jinks is a dealer in inks. 

Methinks. 


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More Laxi&hs 

AS OTHERS SEE US 

In his studio the other day, Charles Dana 
Gibson was much amused to receive a printed 
circular, signed by an automobile firm, that 
said: 

“You are cordially invited to participate in 
our grand $100 prize drawing contest. Each 
participant may submit one or more drawings 
advertising our automobiles, and the winner 
will receive a grand prize of $100. Drawings 
must be sent prepaid, they must be original, 
and all unsuccessful drawings will remain the 
property of the undersigned.” 

Mr. Gibson, who can scarcely be persuaded 
to make drawings at $1,000 a piece, smiled 
over this printed circular, and then, having an 
inspiration, he took a sheet of note paper and, 
still smiling, he wrote to the automobile firm 
as follows: 


124 






<^yg*More Laughs 

“You are cordially invited to participate in 
my grand automobile $10 prize contest. Each 
participant may submit one or more automo¬ 
biles, fully equipped, of his own manufacture, 
and the winner will receive a grand cash prize 
of $10 in gold. The automobiles submitted 
should be brand new, and must be shipped 
f. o. b. to New York. The unsuccessful auto¬ 
mobiles will remain the property of the under¬ 
signed.” 

SAW THE POINT 

A Y. M. C. A. collector had called on a 
prominent tradesman several times without 
result. At last, wearied by his continual com¬ 
ing, the merchant caved in and said: 

“Look here, sir, I’ll give you $25 on con¬ 
dition that you don’t come into my office again, 
unless I invite you.” 

The offer was promptly accepted. Next 

125 





More Laughs 


morning, bright and early, the unabashed col¬ 
lector was on the scent again. He knocked at 
the merchant’s door and was told to ‘‘Come 
in.” He went in, and then—“What’s the 
meaning of all this?” demanded the merchant. 
“Didn’t I give you a subscription yesterday on 
the express condition that you would not come 
here again unless invited?” 

“True,” was the answer, “but you asked me 
to come in when I knocked, and here I am. 
If you would like to help our cause further—” 

And the merchant did. 


FOR THE BLIND 

It was an enterprising tradesman in a cer¬ 
tain town who put a box outside his shop one 
day, labeled “For the Blind.” A few weeks 
later the box disappeared. 

“Halloa,” was the exclamation of a cus- 

126 




j^jfi~More Laughs 

tomer. “What’s happened to your box for the 
blind?” 

“Oh, I got enough money,” he replied, and 
pointing to the new canvas window shade that 
nicely screened his shop window, “there’s the 
blind!” 



IRISH MOONSHINE 

When illicit distilling was common in Ire¬ 
land there was an old man who went about the 
country repairing whisky pots. The gauger 
met him one day and asked him what he would 
take to inform him where he had repaired the 
last whisky pot. 

“Och,” said the old man, “I’ll just take half 
a crown.” 

“Done!” retorted the gauger. “Here’s your 
money, and be careful to tell me the truth.” 

“Och, I’ll tell you no lie, sir. I mended the 
last whisky pot right where the hole was!” 

127 





More Laughs 

A REMARKABLE DELIVERANCE 

There is a monument in a graveyard some¬ 
where up the Hudson River. On one side of 
the monument appear the names of the seven 
successive wives of John Hawkins—Sarah, 
Fannie, Lucy, Jane, Emma, Candace and 
Flora. On the other side is this inscription: 

“Sacred to the memory of John Hawkins. 
Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but 
the Lord delivereth him out of them all.” 

HE PREFERRED THE BEAR 

A gentleman from the North was enjoying 
the excitement of a bear hunt down the Mis¬ 
sissippi. The bear was surrounded in a small 
cane thicket. The dogs could not get the bear 
out, and the planter who was at the head of 
the hunt called to one of the negroes: 

“Sam, go in there and get that bear out.” 

128 








MoreLau&hs 


The negro hesitated for a moment, and then 
plunged into the cane. A few moments later 
the negro, the bear and the dogs were rolling 
on the ground outside. After the hunt was 
over the visitor said to the negro: 

“Were you not afraid to go into that thicket 
with that bear?” 

“Capun,” replied the negro, “it was jest dis 
a way: I had nebber met dat b’ar befo’, but I 
was pussonally acquainted wid de ole boss, an’ 
I jest naturally took dat b’ar.” 

“HORSE SENSE” 

A traveler in Indiana noticed that a farmer 
was having trouble with his horse. It would 
start up all right, go slowly for a short dis¬ 
tance, and then stop again. Then the farmer 
would have difficulty in making a new start. 
Finally the traveler approached and asked 
with solicitude, “Is your horse sick?” 

129 





Laughs 

“Not that I know of—at least not in his 
body.” 

“He has a balky disposition, I presume?” 

“No, not that neither. But he’s so danged 
’fraid I’ll say whoa and he won’t hear me, that 
he has to stop every once in a while just to 
listen!” 


A WELCOME SUBSTITUTE 

It was early in the history of the new house¬ 
hold. “And what have we got for breakfast, 
my dear?” asked Mr. Justmarried. His wife 
looked at him with troubled eyes. 

“It was to have been bacon and eggs,” she 
said, “but poor cook has gone and burned the 
bacon so that we can’t eat it.” 

“Poor cook! I should think so, indeed!” 
exclaimed Mr. Justmarried. “Confound her! 
Have you given her notice to quit?” 

“Oh, no, we mustn’t be too cross to her, 

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More Laughs 

darling/* said his wife. “She’s so young and 
inexperienced. Won’t you be satisfied with a 
good, sweet kiss for breakfast?” she coaxed 
with a pleading smile. 

“All right, my dear,” replied the wily hus¬ 
band, suddenly pacified, “Just call her in.” 

A NARROW ESCAPE 

In the crisp, bright October air the sweet 
young thing had been for a drive with her 
sweetheart, and had returned freshened and 
glowing with excitement. 

“Oh, mother,” she cried, “Tom and I had 
the narrowest escape from an awful accident! 
The horse nearly bolted and I don’t know 
what would have happened! 

“We were going through a narrow lane 
when, all of a sudden, a pheasant got up from 
the hedge and flew across the horse’s head, 

and before Tom could grasp the reins-” 

131 






<^3^More LaM&hs «£^ 

“Er,” inquired the younger brother, “wasn’t 
Tom holding the reins then? And if not, then 
why not?” 

And it took ever so long to explain just what 
happened. 


The latest thing out is often a young man 
with a night key. 

Snoring has been scientifically classified as 
“sheet music.” 

There is a woman dentist in Camden. She 
hangs out a sign—“Teeth pulled while you 
wait.” She is said to be a woman of gentle 
extraction. 

A well-dressed young chappie at a crossing 
on the Avenue the other day called out to the 
driver of an ash-cart, “Say, you take all sorts 
of rubbish on your cart, don’t you?” “Yes, 
yes,” was the quick reply, “jump in, jump in!” 


132 






More La\t&hs«£^j^ 

“I want five cents’ worth of starch,” said a 
little girl to the grocer’s clerk. The clerk 
asked, “And what do you want five cents* 
worth of starch for?” “Why, for five cents, 
of course,” she answered. “You wouldn’t ex¬ 
pect me to pay ten cents for five cents’ worth, 
would you?” And then the clerk concluded 
that he had better attend to his own business. 


“Say, Pat, suppose Satan was to come along, 
and see both of us here, which do you suppose 
he would take, you or me?” “Oh, faith, yer 
honor, he’d take me.” “And what makes you 
think so?” “Well, sir,” said Pat, “he’d take 
me now as knowin’ that he’d not be sure of 
me when he came again; but of you he’d be 
sure at any time, an’ so he could afford to 
wait.” 


An American lady who had been visiting 

133 







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Canada courteously invited the customs officer 
to examine her baggage. “There is nothing 
but wearing apparel in the trunks,” she re¬ 
marked with a very reassuring smile. The 
officer unlocked the largest trunk and quickly 
pounced upon a dozen bottles of French 
brandy. “Madam, do you call this wearing 
apparel?” he asked sternly. “Why, yes, of 
course,” replied the lady. “They are my hus¬ 
band’s night-caps!” 

TIT FOR TAT 

Two very polite and neighborly neighbors 
present their respects after the following most 
dignified fashion: 

“Mr. Thompson presents his compliments to 
Mr. Simpson, and begs to request that he will 
keep his doggs from trespassing on his 
grounds.” 

“Mr. Simpson presents his compliments to 

134 






More Lau&hs 

Mr. Thompson, and begs to suggest that in 
future he should not spell ‘dogs’ with two 
gees.” 

“Mr. Thompson’s respects to Mr. Simpson, 
and will feel obliged if he will add the letter 
‘e’ to the last word in the note just received, 
so as to very truly represent Mr. Simpson and 
lady.” 

“Mr. Simpson returns Mr. Thompson’s note 
unopened, the impertinence it contains being 
equaled only by its vulgarity.” 

THE SWALLOW HOMEWARD FLIES 

Pat was driving with an English visitor on 
a bitterly cold day through the wilds of Con¬ 
nemara. They became quite sociable on the 
way, and the native, in a burst of confidence, 
pointed out a shebeen where “the best potheen 
in Connaught” might be obtained. 

The Englishman, only too glad to get an 

135 






More Lau&hs^^fe 

opportunity of warming himself, took the hint 
and offered the desired refreshment, which was 
readily accepted. 

As they sat before the table by the cozy fire 
in the grate, the tourist observed, “ ’Tis a very 
cold day, Pat, and I think this must be a very 
cold country.” 

“ ’Tis, yer honor,” replied Pat, as he raised 
his glass and drained the contents to the last 
drop. 

“An/ there’s truth in the auld sayin’, yer 
honor,” he continued, with a suggestive wink 
and an appreciative smacking of the lips— 
“there’s truth in the auld sayin’, ‘Wan swallow 
nivver made a summer!’ ” 

THE NATIONAL COLOR 

One morning a loyal Irishman was at work 
near the top of a telephone pole, painting it a 
bright green, when the pot of paint slipped and 

136 





More Laughs 

splashed on the clean, concrete sidewalk. A 
few minutes afterward another Irishman came 
along. He looked at the paint, then at his 
countryman up at the top of the pole, and 
exclaimed with much anxiety in his tone, 
“Doherty, Doherty, mon, hove ye had a himar- 
rage?” 

DOWN WITH IT! 

Enthusiastically denouncing the use of all 
intoxicants a temperance lecturer exclaimed: 

“I wish all the beer, all the wine, all the 
whisky and all the rum in all the world were 
at the bottom of the ocean!” 

Down in the audience Pat hastily arose to 
his feet, waved his hand and shouted: 

“Sure, and so do I, yer honor. I wish every 
bit of it was at the bottom of the say.” 

As they were leaving the hall the lecturer 
encountered Pat, tapped him on the shoulder 
and said: 




137 





^jte’More La\i&hs»«g^Q£ 

“I certainly am proud of you. It was a 
brave thing for you to rise and say what you 
did. Are you a teetotaller?” 

“No, indade, sorr,” answered Pat, “I’m a 
diver.” 


A WARM PROSPECT 

Mrs. Nubbins: “Josiah, are you ever going 
to get up? It’s half past six o’clock.” 

Mr. Nubbins (yawning) : “Well, I have one 
consolation: I shall have sleep enough when 
I am dead, anyway.” 

Mrs. Nubbins: “Yes, and you’ll find the fire 
lit when you wake, just as you do now.” 

REVENGE! 

The lawyer was drawing up the old man’s 
will. “I hereby bequeath all my property to 
my wife,” dictated the sturdy old son of the 
soil. “Got that?” 


138 





More La\i£hs<£>f^ 

“Yes, all right,” answered the lawyer, mak¬ 
ing his pen fly. 

“On condition that she marries again within 
one year from the date of my death—” 

Here the legal light ceased writing, sat back 
in his chair, looked puzzled and asked: 

“But why do you attach such a singular 
condition ?” 

“Because,” said the old man, “because I 
want somebody to be sorry I died!” 

A TARTAR WITNESS 

Mr. Plowden, the well-known London 
magistrate, on his retirement from the bench 
was fond of relating the following as one of 
the choicest bits of his legal experience. In the 
course of a certain case he had to cross-examine 
the wife of a notorious burglar. 

“You are the wife of this man?” he asked. 

“I am,” she replied. 

139 





More Laughs 

“And you knew he was a burglar when you 
married him?” 

“I did,” she admitted. 

“But, how could you possibly marry such a 
man?” he demanded. 

“Well, it was like this,” the witness ex¬ 
plained confidentially. “I was getting old, and 
two chaps wanted to marry me, and it wasn’t 
easy to choose between ’em, but in the end 
I married Bill there. The other chap was a 
lawyer, same as you, sir.” 

THE MASONIC SIGN 

“What do those letters stand for?” asked a 
curious wife of her husband, as she examined 
his Masonic seal. 

“Well, really, my love,” he replied with a 
wink to himself, “I presume it is simply be¬ 
cause they can’t sit down!” 

140 






ON THE WRONG SCENT 


Seated on the curb beside a telephone pole, 
with a tin can by his side, a small boy attracted 
the attention of an old gentleman who was 
passing. 

“Going fishing?” he inquired good-naturedly. 

“Nope,” the youngster replied. “Take a 
peek in there.” 

An investigation showed the can to be partly 
filled with caterpillars of the tussock moth 
variety. 

“What in the world are you doing with 
them?” 

“They crawl up trees,” said the boy, “and 
they eat off all the leaves.” 

“So I understand. Well?” 

“Well, I’m fooling a few of them.” 

“And how?” 

“Sendin’ em up this telephone pole.” 

141 



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More LaM^hsv^^ 

A BOY’S ELEGY 

Little Jasper Senter learned from the minis¬ 
ter’s sermon one Sunday that man was made 
of clay. After returning from church he re¬ 
solved to make him a man after his own 
fashion. The work proceeded in the clay bank 
back of the garden until his mother called Jas¬ 
per to luncheon. He had completed all of the 
man but one leg. 

That afternoon Jasper and his mother, while 
walking along the street, met a man with one 
leg, walking with crutches. Jasper went up to 
him, grabbed his coat by the tail and said: 

“See here! I thought I told you to stay 
there in the yard till I put that other leg on 
you!” 


HYPHENATED 

The teacher in one of the lower grades was 
instructing her pupils in the use of a hyphen. 

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Her call being for hyphenated words, the word 
“bird-cage” was suggested. 

“That’s right,” encouragingly remarked the 
teacher. “And now, Paul, tell me why we put • 
a hyphen in ‘bird-cage’?” 

“It’s for the bird to sit on,” was the prompt 
reply. 

A BETTER METHOD 

Some time ago a weary hobo meekly tapped 
on the back door of a suburban home, and 
asked for something to eat. The good house¬ 
wife responded that she would feed him on the 
back step along with Fido, provided he was 
willing to earn the meal by cleaning out the 
gutter. 

The tramp agreed, and when he had eaten 
his way through several sandwiches to a feel¬ 
ing of happiness, the housewife came out with 
a formidable looking hoe. 

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MoreTaM&hs 

“You needn’t have gone to that trouble, 
madam,” said the hobo, sizing up the farm 
implement. “I never use a hoe in cleaning out 
a gutter.” 

‘‘Never use a hoe!” exclaimed the woman 
with a wondering expression. “What then do 
you use—a shovel?” 

“No, madam,” replied the hobo, starting for 
the back gate. “I have an easier method than 
using either a shovel or a hoe. My method 
is—to pray for rain!” 

THE PEDDLER’S COMEBACK 

“Now, what do you want?” asked the sharp¬ 
nosed woman at the back door. 

“I called to see if I couldn’t sell you some 
baking powder,” answered the weary looking 
peddler with the straggling whiskers. 

“Well, you can’t sell no bakin’ powder here, 

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and furthermore I ain’t got no time to waste 
on agents nor tramps whatsoever.” 

“Come to think of it, madam,” said the seedy 
gentleman, as he fastened his little black 
valise, “I would not keer to sell you none of 
this here bakin’ powder. It might do no end 
of harm, and I’d be soaked for damages. This 
here dinky little kitchen is so low in the ceilin’ 
that the bread wouldn’t have no chance to rise, 
without bustin’ off the roof of the shebang. 
I see yer next-door neighbor is better fixed, 
an’ I bid ye good mornin’.” 


The Indian scalps his enemies, 

The Pale-face skins his friends. 

Indian Proverb. 

GUESS IT? 

As I was going to Saint Ives, 

I met a man with seven wives, 

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Every wife had seven sacks. 
Every sack had seven cats, 
Every cat had seven kits: 

Kits, cats, sacks and wives— 
How many going to Saint Ives? 


NATURALLY! 

Once on a time a trained ostrich discon¬ 
certed its exhibitor at a music hall by continu¬ 
ally endeavoring to break away from all 
restraint and to climb over the footlights into 
the orchestra. 

The widely advertised act came to a sudden 
end, and the professor emerged from behind 
the curtain and apologized for the strange 
actions of his pet, as follows: 

“Lydies and gentlemen! Hi am very sorry 
to disappoint you this hevening. We are com¬ 
pelled to cease hour hengagement until the 
management hengages a new horchestra 

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4 ^ 0 * More LaM&hs«£^T 

. . ■■■ m i saaBBSSsh 

leader. The one at present hemployed ’as no 
’air hon the top o* ’is ’ead—an’ my bird takes 
hit for a hegg!” 

THE PHILOSOPHY OF HOLES 

A small boy having been presented with a 
penny with a hole in it and disdaining to use 
it himself, gave it to a still smaller companion, 
saying: 

“Jimmie, I dare you to go into that store 
and buy something with this penny.” 

Jimmie was quite willing, and entering 
boldly, he said: 

“I want a doughnut.” And taking it, he 
hastily presented the penny. 

“Here, hold on,” said the clerk, “this penny 
has a hole in it.” 

“And so has the doughnut!” exclaimed 
Jimmie triumphantly as he winked an eye 
through the hole. 


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More L a\x£hs 

CHARGE! 

There was once a young man by the name 
of Stanley Chester. Having in mind to start a 
boarding school for young ladies and being 
entirely without experience, he thought well 
to consult an elderly gentleman who had spent 
a whole lifetime in the work he proposed to 
undertake, and ask for some words of counsel. 
After having given the young man advice in 
several directions, he said: “But, there is one 
piece of advice which I wish to impress on 
your mind as being the chief of all. I can do 
this best by recalling to your recollection a 
well-known couplet from Scott’s ‘Marmion’— 
“‘Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on! 
Were the last words of Marmion.’ ” 

ANOTHER CHARGE 
The attorney was making an address to a 
popular assembly in behalf of the corporation 
he represented. 



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<^K>More La\i£hs v5^ 

“Think of the good the gas company has 
done!” he cried. “If I were permitted to make 
a classical pun, I would do it in the words of 
the immortal poet, ‘Honor the Light Bri¬ 
gade !’ ” 

And then the voice of a long-suffering con¬ 
sumer rang out from the back of the crowd: 

“Oh, what a charge they made!” 

GRAFTING A SCOTCHMAN 

A salesman had taken a large order in the 
north of Scotland for a consignment of hard¬ 
ware, and endeavored to press upon the canny 
Scotch manager who had given the order a 
box of Havana cigars. 

“Naw,” he replied. “Don’t try to bribe a 
man. I couldna tak’ them—and I’m a member 
o’ the kirk.” 

“But will you not accept them as a present?” 

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More Laughs 


“I couldna,” said the Scot. 

“Well, then,” said the salesman, “suppose 
I sell you the cigars for a nominal sum—say 
sixpence?” 

“Weel, in that case,” was the reluctant 
answer, “since ye press me, and no liking to 
refuse an offer weel meant, I think I’ll tak’ 
twa boxes!” 


CAUGHT HIM ON THE SNOROGRAPH 

Placing the family phonograph on the 
library table, Mrs. Ravenyelp said to her 
husband: 

“I have an odd record here, Henry, and I 
want to see if you can guess what it is.” 

When a weird succession of sounds began 
to come from the instrument, Ravenyelp knit¬ 
ted his brows and tried to identify them. 

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"It’s a buzz saw plowing through a knot/* 
he ventured. 

“Guess again,” said Mrs. Ravenyelp. 

“A slide trombone in full cry?” 

“Hardly.” 

“A cat concert?” 

“Nope.” 

“A hoot owl with its toes in a trap?” 

Smiling grimly, Mrs. Ravenyelp shook her 
head in the negative. 

“Give it up,” finally said Ravenyelp: “but as 
one last guess I’ll say that sounds very much 
like a siren whistle with the pip.” 

“I will agree that it is as bad as all the noises 
you have named,” Mrs. Ravenyelp remarked, 
“and I hope it will save a lot of argument in 
the future.” 

“But—what is it?” insisted Ravenyelp. 

“It’s a dictagraph record I made in your bed¬ 
room the other night,” replied she, “to prove 

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More Lav£hs 

to you that you do really snore in your sleep, 
and to let you know just how awful it sounds!” 


A bunch of boys were desperately bent on 
getting into the baseball game, but they had 
no money. They could think of no scheme to 
get by the gateman until one bright chap ex¬ 
claimed in a delighted voice: 

“I’ve got it, fellers! We’ll all walk in back¬ 
wards, an’ the man he’ll think we’re cornin’ 
out!” 


DIDN’T SPEAK UP 

O’Toole was passing a bird store when this 
sign caught his eye: 

“Step in. A Bargain Today. An Elegant 
Poll Parrot which Speaks Seven Languages, 
for Sale!” 

O’Toole went in. “What are ye askin’ fer 
the bird?” he asked. 


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'4POr More Laughs 

‘‘One dollar only, and its a bloomin’ sacri¬ 
fice,” said the dealer. 

“You’re on,” said O’Toole. “Put the beast 
in a cage and sind it out to Mrs. Ellen O’Toole 
to the Shamrock apartments on the drive.” 

Then he continued on his way to work. He 
could hardly wait to get home, so anxious was 
he to try the parrot out on the language busi¬ 
ness, and when the whistle blew he was the 
first man out. Running home, he rushed in 
upon his wife and exclaimed with a face 
aglow: 

“Did the bird come, Illin?” 

“It did, Dinny, an it’s stuffed, baked an’ 
riddy fer ye; but I’m tellin’ ye, Dinny, there’s 
no more than the pick on the bones o’ the 
thing fer ye.” 

“Ye cooked it, did ye!” screamed O’Toole. 

“Sure,” said Mrs. O’Toole. 

“ ’Twasn’t to be cooked at all, at all, Illin, 

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Moire La\i&hs<g3fj^ 

cried O’Toole. “Sure the poor green thing was 
a prisint to ye—’twas a talkin’ parrot that 
could spake sivin languages!” 

“It could! An’ thin why in blazes didn’t it 
say somethin’ befoore I chopped off its head?” 

LAZY DAD 

By way of enlarging the children’s vocabu¬ 
lary our village school teacher is in the habit 
of giving them a certain word and asking them 
to form a sentence in which that word occurs. 
The other day she gave the class the word 
“Notwithstanding.” There was a pause, and 
then a bright-faced youngster held up his 
hand. 

“Well, what is your sentence, Tommy?” 
asked the teacher. 

And Tommy answered promptly, “Father 
wore his trousers out, but notwithstanding!” 

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“MUTATIS MUTANDIS ” 

Elihu Root is credited with a clever story 
about a certain attempt to correct the man¬ 
ners of a careless office boy. 

One morning the young autocrat entered the 
office and tossing his cap on a hook, exclaimed: 

“Say, Mr. Root, there’s a ball game on at 
the park today, and I want to go down.” 

“James,” said Mr. Root, seizing the oppor¬ 
tunity to inculcate a much needed lesson, “that 
is not the way to ask a favor. Now, you sit 
down in my chair and I will show you how 
to do it properly.” 

The boy took the chair, and his employer 
picked up the misplaced cap and stepped out¬ 
side. He then re-entered softly, closed the 
door gently and, holding the cap in his hand 
respectfully, approached the supposed head of 
the office. 


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“Please, sir,” he said quietly, “there is a ball 
game at the park this afternoon, and, if you 
could spare me, I should like to get away for 
part of the afternoon.” 

In a flash the quick-witted boy had improved 
the situation. 

“Why, certainly, Jimmie,” he replied gra¬ 
ciously. “Here is a half dollar to pay your 
way in!” 


WORKED BOTH WAYS 

The prisoner was on trial. In answer to 
the charge he pleaded “Not guilty.” The jury 
found the charge proved and, in imposing sen¬ 
tence, the Judge said, “Ye’re not only guilty, 
but ye come here and tell lies, sayin’ ye’re 
not.” 

The prisoner who followed next for trial was 
much influenced by this judgment and sup¬ 
posed it might be well for him to take another 

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course. So he pleaded “Guilty,” in a very self- 
satisfied voice. 

“Oho,” exclaimed the Judge, “ye’re guilty, 
are ye, an’ ye have the face to come here and 
brag about it, do ye?” 

NOT SURE OF SOME OF THEM 

Col. Thomas D. Osborne, who resigned from 
the Board of Managers to become Secretary 
of the Hospital Commission at Louisville, 
allowed a remark to escape him for which the 
good Baptists of Louisville may take him to 
task. 

Colonel Osborne is an ex-Confederate. He 
is also an ardent Baptist. Both come close to 
his heart. 

A friend stopped the Colonel and inquired 
whether he was going to the Confederate re¬ 
union at Chattanooga? 

“I am sorry I cannot,” said the Colonel. 

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More Laxighs 

“Gen. Bennett H. Young is urging me to at¬ 
tend the reunion to meet my old comrades 
because I may never see them again. But I 
have a Baptist convention to attend just at the 
time the reunion will be held. I told General 
Young I was sure to meet all Confederates in 
heaven anyhow, but I must meet my Baptist 
friends while I have the opportunity/’ 

FREE DELIVERY 

The precise but somewhat broken English 
of Mme. Schumann-Heink is one of her 
charms. While in a western city she found 
herself in immediate need of toilet powder. 
In her practical way she stepped into a drug 
store to buy it herself. 

“Will you have it scented?” inquired the 
accommodating clerk. 

“No, I vill take it vid me,” crisply replied 
the great singer. 


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DIDN’T LIKE CROW 

An official once said to Father Healy, the 
Irish wit: 

“Healy, I’ve got a crow to pick with you.” 

“Make it a turkey, and I’ll join you at six 
sharp!” said Father Healy. 

“DE MORTUIS NIL NISI BENE” 

When the funeral reached the graveyard 
and all things were in readiness for the inter¬ 
ment, unfortunately no minister appeared to 
conduct the service. What was to be done? 
Then the Undertaker or, we should rather say, 
“The Funeral Director,” or as the very latest 
revised version has it, “The Mortuary Artist,” 
sizing up the embarrassing situation and com¬ 
ing to the gallant rescue, and feeling that 
something at least should be said in honor of 
the departed, cleared his throat with a most 

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sepulchral cough and remarked, “My friends, 
this here corpse joined the church eighteen 
years ago.” 

NOT WITH THAT BUNCH 

The Sunday school teacher was testing her 
class of boys as to their religious aims and 
purposes. 

“All those who wish to go to heaven, please 
stand.” 

All got to their feet but one small boy. 

“Why, James,” exclaimed the shocked 
teacher, “do you mean to say that you don’t 
want to go to heaven?” 

“No, ma’am,” replied James promptly, “not 
if that bunch is going there.” 

DON’T BE TOO CURIOUS 

The goose had been carved and served to the 
delight of everybody who had tasted it. It was 

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simply most excellent. The negro minister, 
who was the guest of honor, could not restrain 
his enthusiasm and exclaimed: 

“Dat’s as fine a goose as evah I see, Bruddah 
Williams,” he said to his host. “Whar did you 
git such a fine goose?” 

“Well, now, Pahson,” replied the carver of 
the goose, exhibiting great dignity and appro¬ 
priate reticence, “hit’s dis a way: when you 
preaches a speshul good sermon, I nebber axes 
you whar you got it. An’ on dis occasion I 
hope you will show me de same consideration.” 

OUT OF SIGHT 

“Did you notice the beauty of that lady?” 
asked one American gentleman of another. 
“Of course,” was the answer. “She was sim¬ 
ply out of sight.” 

And the Englishman, who had overheard the 
remark, went home and told his wife that 

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wr w wa' | i » ELV »(ia8iiH« 


Lavifths 


“there was a woman at the party who was so 
beautiful that you couldn’t see her!” 


JUMPING AT CONCLUSIONS 

Never jump at conclusions. We had a dog, 
once when I was a boy, by the name of August. 
August had the bad habit of jumping at con¬ 
clusions, and I might as well tell you the very 
sorrowful conclusion. 

One day August jumped at a cow’s conclu¬ 
sion, and the cow kicked and spilled a fine 
bucketful of good fresh milk. 

Another day he jumped at a horse’s con¬ 
clusion, and the horse ran away and smashed 
a costly buggy. 

Next he tried jumping at a mule’s conclu¬ 
sion. The mule kicked—and that, alas! was 
the last of August. And the very next day 
was the first of September! 

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^PQr More >Lateghsv>^ 

SQUATTER SOVEREIGNTY 

The lovely girl, having lingered a minute in 
her room to adjust her transformation, change 
the angle of her Grecian band, and make sure 
that her skirt fitted like the peeling of a plum, 
at length descended to the parlor, only to find 
the family pet ensconced upon the knee of the 
young man caller, her curly head nestled com¬ 
fortably against his shoulder. 

“Why, Mabel!” the young lady exclaimed, 
“aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Get right 
down this minute!” 

“I sha’n’t do it,” was the pert and significant 
rejoinder. “I got here first!” 

“ELIMINATED EGGS” 

Three gentlemen, Jones, Brown and Smith, 
went into the dining room of a Southern hotel 
for breakfast. 

Jones ordered coffee, rolls, creamed potatoes, 

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bacon and fried eggs. Brown told the colored 
waiter he might duplicate the order for him, 
and Smith said: 

“You may bring me the same, all but the 
eggs. You may eliminate the eggs.” 

In due time the waiter appeared with the 
breakfast of Jones and Brown, which he 
served; then, stepping round to Smith, he said 
in a conciliatory tone: 

“We got fried aiggs, an’ poached aiggs, an* 
boiled aiggs, an’ scrambled aiggs, an* om’let, 
sah, but we ain’t got no ’liminated aiggs.” 

“Well,” said Smith, “my doctor says my 
eggs must be eliminated. Have it done at 
once and hurry up my breakfast.” 

Presently the waiter was back again, but 
without the breakfast. 

“De cook says to tell you, sah, he jest can’t 
’liminate no aiggs dis mawnin’.” 

“Now, see here,” said Smith, in apparent 

164 





anger, “I never before was at a hotel where 
I couldn’t have my eggs eliminated. You go 
and tell the cook that, and tell him to eliminate 
those eggs double-quick, or I shall complain 
to the manager.” 

Away went the waiter, but returned almost 
immediately, followed by the cook. 

“I come to ’splain to you myse’f ’bout dem 
aiggs, sah,” said the excited chef. “I ain’t 
been yere on’y a week, an’ I don’ wan’ to lose 
mah job, an’ dis is de ve’y fust o’dah I had foh 
’liminated aiggs since I come. I was goin’ to 
’lim’nate ’em right off, but when I looked roun’ 
fer de ’liminater, I found it done gone got 
broke yiste’day, an’ had to be sent off to de 
fact’ry to git fixed, an’, o’ co’se, I can’t ’lim’nate 
no aiggs ’thout a ’lim’nater, but if you’ll ’scuse 
me dis mawnin’, nex’ time you come I’ll suah 
’lim’nate yo’ aiggs better’n you’ve had ’em 
’lim’nated in all yo’ life befo’l” 

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More La\tghs 

HOORAY! 

The old Professor of the Ancient Languages 
and Literature, well known for the striking 
resemblance of his classic features to those of 
Julius Caesar, took his seat at his desk as the 
class filed in. “We will now-” he began. 

“Just one moment, please, Professor,” said 
Raffleberger, “I have a favor to ask before we 
proceed with the recitation. Here is a Latin 
quotation I came across yesterday, and for the 
life of me I can’t make it out.” 

He advanced to the desk with the quotation 
written on a bit of paper, twiddling his left 
hand behind his back as he went just by way 
of giving the boys the class sign of “attention.” 

The Professor read, “Quis crudus pro te, 
lectus, albus et spiravit.” 

“Hm, hm,” said he. “Appears to be Dog 
Latin. I can’t translate that, and I don’t be¬ 
lieve anybody else can.” 

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ore Laughs 


“I can,” shouted Jordan. Seizing a bit of 
chalk and going up to the blackboard, he 
wrote: 

“Quis = who: crudus = raw: pro = for: 
te = thee: lectus = red: albus = white: spira- 
vit = blew. The sum total = Hooraw for the 
red, white and blue: Q. E. D.” 

PLAUSIBILITY 

Colonel George Harvey said at a dinner, 
apropos of prevailing high retail prices: 

“Wholesale prices are coming down, but the 
retailers are giving us all sorts of plausible 
reasons for keeping retail prices up. These 
plausible retailers remind me of a story. 

“A guest in a Florida hotel complained to 
the manager: 

“ ‘Your restaurant is conducted in a very 
mean way. At lunch today I found a hair in 

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the ice cream, a hair in the honey and a hair 
in the apple sauce/ 

“ ‘Well, you see,’ the manager explained, ‘the 
hair in the ice cream came from the shaving of 
the ice. The hair in the honey came, I sup¬ 
pose, from the comb. But I can’t for the life 
of me understand about the hair in the apple 
sauce, for I bought those apples myself, and 
I can assure you that they were all Bald— 
wins!’ ” 



SPEAKING OF APPLES 

The honest farmer’s apple crop 
Has been dispatched to town: 

The barrels look this way on the top— 

o o o o o o o 

And this way lower down— 
oooooooo 

168 





4l*Cr More Laughs. 

A HORSE OF ANOTHER COLOR 

An enthusiastic temperance lecturer was 
vigorously haranguing an audience. Said he, 
“Take two buckets of equal size. Fill one with 
water and fill the other with beer, and set them 
before a horse, and see which he will take. 
He’ll take to the water every time. What do 
you say to that?” 

“What do I say to that?” came a sturdy 
voice from the rear seats— 

“I say that wasn’t a horse, Mister; it was a 
jackass!” 

SELF ADVERTISED 

He had opened a fish shop, and he ordered 
a new sign painted, of which he was very 
proud. It read, “Fresh Fish Sold Here.” 

“What did you put the word ‘Fresh’ in for?” 
said his first customer. “You wouldn’t sell 
them if they weren’t fresh, would you?” 

169 


< 




More LaMghs-^j^ 

He painted out the word, leaving just “Fish 
sold here.” 

“Why do you say ‘Here’?” asked his second 
customer. “You are not selling them any¬ 
where else, are you?” So he rubbed out the 
word “Here.” 

“Why use ‘Sold’?” asked the next customer. 
“You’re not giving them away, are you?” 

So he rubbed out everything but the single 
word ‘Fish,’ remarking: 

“Well, nobody can find fault with that sign 
now, anyway.” 

But, another customer coming in, said, “I 
don’t see any use of that sign up there. ‘Fish’! 
Why you can smell them a mile away!” 

SPOONER AGAIN 

*• 

Not every commencement speaker has said 
precisely what he wished to say to the young 
people before him. One was tripped up by a 

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More L au&hs 

1 * ' ‘ "T 1 '*' 1 mTI 

most unhappy lapsus linguae at a young 
ladies’ seminary. 

He meant to say, “But, I have talked too 
long, and I do not wish to speak to weary 
benches’’—instead of which he made it “beery 
wenches.” Thereby reminding us of Tutor 
Spooner, of Oxford, who thus addressed a 
meeting of farmers: “It is most gratifying to 
me to behold so many tons of soil!” 

But a university lecturer lately matched 
these infelicities when he said, “I am not going 
to talk very long, but if you get in your heads 
what I am going to say, you’ll have the whole 
thing in a nutshell.” There’s many a true word 
spoken in jest. 

APPLES AND ONIONS 

* 

“An apple a day keeps the Doctor away”— 

and— 

“An onion a day keeps everybody away.” 

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DOWN OFF THE ELEPHANT 

They were discussing that joke about get¬ 
ting down off an elephant. 

“How do you get down?” asked the joke- 
smith for the fourth time. 

“You climb down.” 

“Wrong!” 

“You grease his sides and slide down.” 

“Wrong!” 

“You take a ladder and get down.” 

“Wrong!” 

“Well, you take the trunk line down.” 

“All wrong. You don’t get down off an 
elephant: You get it off a goose!” 

THE BOOMERANG ECHO 

An American and a Highlander were walk¬ 
ing one day on the top of a Scotch mountain, 
when the Scotchman, wishing to impress the 
boastful Yankee cousin, produced a famous 

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More La\i£hsv^f§>" 

echo to be heard in that place. When the echo 
returned clearly after four minutes, the proud 
Scotchman, turning proudly to the Yankee, 
exclaimed, “Therr, mon, ye canna’ show any¬ 
thin* like that in your own country!’* 

To which the other replied, “I guess we can 
go that one better, my friend. Why, when 
I go to bed I just lean out of the window and 
call out, ‘Time to get up. Wake up!* and 
eight hours afterward the echo comes back 
and wakes me!” 

IRISH WIT 

A stout Irish woman, bearing a number of 
bundles, entered a crowded street car in Chi¬ 
cago. The only sign of a seat she could find 
was a small space at the right of a smartly 
dressed youth. 

A few moments after squeezing herself into 
this narrow space the Irish woman produced 
a redolent cheese sandwich, which she pro- 

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ceeded to devour with every evidence of a keen 
relish. Whereupon the youth gave her a look 
of ineffable disgust, and drew the skirts of his 
overcoat closer to him. 

“I suppose, me lad,” good-naturedly re¬ 
marked the woman, “ye would greatly pray- 
fer-r to have a gintleman settin’ next to ye?” 
“I certainly would!” snapped the youth. 
“An’ so would I!” said the fat woman. 

THE SMOKER’S PUZZLE 

To three fourths of a cross add a circle com¬ 
plete: 

Let two semicircles a perpendicular meet: 
Next, add a triangle that stands on two feet— 
Then two semicircles, and a circle complete. 
And if you would know what this puzzle might 
be— 

Read what’s written below, and you surely will 


see. 


174 






More Laughs 

Tobacco—’tis a filthy weed, 

It was the Devil sowed the seed: 

It spoils your breath and soils your clothes. 
And makes a chimney of your nose! 

SO TO SPEAK 

The following speech was made by an Irish 
barrister in defense of his client, whose cow 
had been killed by a train: 

“If the train had been run as it should have 
been ran, or if the bell had been rung as it 
should have been rang, or if the whistle had 
been blown as it should have been blew, both 
of which they did neither, the cow would not 
have been injured when she was killed.” 

THE POWER OF SUGGESTION 

The teacher, wishing to impress on her 
pupils’ minds the vast population of China, 
said, “Think, children, two Chinamen die 

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4 




every time you draw a breath.” A minute 
later her attention was attracted to little 
Jimmie James, who stood puffing vehemently 
with face reddened and cheeks distended. 

“What’s the matter, Jimmie?” asked the 
teacher. “What are you doing?” 

“Nothin’, Miss Mary: just killin’ China¬ 
men!” 

A MUTUAL WISH 

“I wish I were an ostrich,” exclaimed Hicks 
angrily as he tried to eat one of his wife’s 
biscuits, but couldn’t. 

“And so do I,” returned Mrs. Hicks. “I just 
do wish you were an ostrich, for then I could 
get a few feathers for my hat!” 

“GET PUNISHED? NAW!” 

“Don’t you know you will get punished for 
fishing on Sunday?” asked a shocked minister 
of a little boy on the river bank. 

176 






More" La\i£hs«^gr 

“Not on your life!” replied the young angler. 
“Dad’s fishin’ himself a little way down 
stream.” 


AN INFINITE SERIES 

All dogs have little fleas upon their backs to 
bite ’em, 

And little fleas have lesser fleas—and so on ad 
infinitum. 

THE ONCE OVER 

As the stage coach careened toward the edge 
of the cliff, the timid tourist gazed anxiously 
down at the brawling torrent three hundred 
feet below. 

“Do people fall over this precipice often?” 
she asked, shuddering. 

The driver clucked to his horses, as he re¬ 
plied placidly, “No, madam, never but once.” 

177 






^Jjg^More Laughs 

A WAYSIDE BARBER SHOP 

When the train stopped at the little South¬ 
ern station, the tourist from the North saun¬ 
tered out and gazed curiously at a lean animal 
which was vigorously rubbing itself against a 
scrub oak. 

“What do you call that?” he asked curiously 
of a native on the station platform. 

“Razorback hawg, suh.” 

“And what’s he doing, rubbing himself 
against that tree?” 

“Why, suh, he’s stroppin’ hisself, I reckon; 
jest stroppin’ hisself.” 

THE DEAD HORSE 

The smart traveling man, whose name was 
Aleck, stood on a corner in the little country 
village at dusk. He was looking for amuse¬ 
ment, and the first object that attracted his 
attention was an overgrown fifteen-year-old 

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^te-More LaM£hs^fj|r 

boy riding a horse that might have come out 
of the Ark. 

“Hello, sonny,” shouted the salesman, “how 
long has that horse of yours been dead?” 

Quick as a flash came the reply, “Three 
days, but you're the first buzzard that has 
noticed it!” 

And Aleck moved into the hotel. 


MELON OIL 

A stall keeper on the Central Market, who 
had been stuck with a number of green melons, 
plugged one, poured a pint of kerosene into the 
hole and after waiting a quarter of an hour 
gave it to a colored man. 

The latter sat down on a box to eat it, but 
after removing the plug and taking a recon- 
noitering smell, he arose and returned the 
melon to the stand. 


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10te*More Laughs 

“What’s the matter?” asked the donor. 

“I’ze much obleeged, but I couldn’t use it, 
onless you’d frow in a chimbley an’ a wick, 
an’ dat would be axin’ too much of anybody.” 

HE THOUGHT TOO HIGHLY 
OF BOTH 

On a road in Belgium a German officer met 
a boy leading a jackass, and addressed him in 
heavy, jovial fashion as follows: 

“That’s a fine jackass you have there, my 
son. What do you call it? Albert, I bet?” 

“Oh, no, officer,” the boy quickly replied, “I 
think quite too highly of my King to call him 
Albert.” 

The German scowled and returned, “I hope 
you don’t dare to call it William?” 

“Oh, no, officer. I think too highly of my 
jackass to call him William!” 

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Ute* More Laughs 

HE GOT HIS DESERT 

A private in a negro regiment sought out his 
sergeant and explained that he was thinking 
of deserting for very good and sufficient rea¬ 
sons, “For de good Lord knows I done gone 
enlist only for de duration of de war, an* de 
war am over.” 

“Dat’s all very well,” responded the cruel 
sergeant. “It’s all right dat you done gone 
enlist for de duration of de war, an’ dat de war 
am over, but—de duration has just done gone 
to begin to commence!” 

An officer on board a warship was drilling 
his men. 

“I want every man to lie on his back,” he 
explained, “put his legs in the air, and move 
them precisely as if he were riding a bicycle.” 

“Now commence!” After a short effort one 

181 







<0^* More Laughs 

of the men stopped. “Hello, there—why have 
you quit pedaling, Murphy?” 

“If ye plaze, sir,” was the ready answer, 
“Oi’m a* coastin’!” 

NOT WORTH THE DIFFERENCE 

A negro servant, wishing to get married, 
asked his master to buy him a license in the 
neighboring town. The master, being in haste, 
did not ask the name of the happy woman, but 
as he drove along he reflected on the many 
tender attentions he had seen John lavish upon 
Euphemia Wilson, the cook, and, concluding 
there could be no mistake, had the license 
made out in her name. 

“There’s your license to marry Euphemia,” 
he said to his servant that night. “You’re as 
good as married already, and you owe me only 
two dollars.” 

The darkey’s face fell. “But, Marse Tom,” 

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More Laughs 

" 11 ' 1 ■ " . . ■ ■wwmi w MHi l ilWwMMWM — 11 » n I I M I ffli 

he exclaimed, “De Ian’s sake alive! Euphemia 
Wilson’s not de lady I’se gwine to marry. Dat 
wa’n’t nothin’ mo’n a little flirtation. Georgi- 
anna Thompson, de landress, is de one I’se 
gwine to marry.” 

“Oh, well, John,” said the master, amused 
and irritated at the same time, “there’s no 
great harm done. I’ll get you another license 
tomorrow, but it will cost you two dollars 
more, of course.” 

The next morning the darkey came out to 
the carriage as it was starting for town and, 
leaning confidentially over the wheel, said: 

“Marse Tom, yer needn’t git me no udder 
license. I’ll use de one I’se got. I’se been 
thinkin’ it over in de night, an’ to tell you de 
troof, Marse Tom, de conclusion o’ my judg¬ 
ment is dat dare ain’t two dollars wuf o’ dif¬ 
ference betwixt dem two ladies!” 



183 





More Laughs 

WANTED TO BE THERE HIMSELF 

Tony, the office janitor, had been working 
faithfully at his job for several years, when he 
one day surprised his employer by asking for 
a vacation. 

“We can’t get along without you very well, 
Tony,” said the Boss. “Besides, you don’t 
really need any vacation. You’ll only blow in 
your money, and come back broke. What do 
you want a vacation for?” 

Tony fumbled his cap nervously as he an¬ 
swered, “I like to have vacation. I get mar¬ 
ried, an’—I kinda like to be there!” 

1918 

My Tuesdays are meatless, 

My Wednesdays are wheatless, 

I’m getting more eatless 
Each day. 

184 







More Laughs 

My home it is heatless, 

My bed it is sheetless— 

They’re all sent to the 
Y. M. C. A. 

The bar-rooms are treatless. 

My coffee is sweetless, 

Each day I get poorer 
And wiser. 

My stockings are feetless. 

My trousers are seatless— 

By Gosh—but I do hate 
The Kaiser! 

COULDN’T FIGHT THE WOMEN 

Being single, and his mother and sisters 
being well provided for by the business, a 
patriotic Scotch grocer decided to enlist in the 
great World War, leaving his assistant, one 
Mackay, in charge. 


185 







More Laughs 

But a few months later the master was 
dumbfounded to meet his late assistant, attired 
in khaki, somewhere in France. 

“Hie, mon,” he said angrily, “did I no tell 
ye tae stay at hame in chairge o’ ma shop?” 

“Sae I thocht at thae time, maister,” replied 
Mackay. “But I soon fun’ oot it wisna only 
thae shop I waur in chairge o’, but a’ yer 
women folk besides. ‘Man,’ sez I tae maself, 
‘gin ye got tae fecht, gang an’ fecht some ain 
ye can hit!’ So—I jined.” 

GRANTED 

Dr. James Thorington had a “Panama din¬ 
ner” for some of his confreres who shared the 
exciting life on the isthmus in the early ’ 80 s, 
and he told this story of how his father, that 
doughty Civil War veteran, Colonel Thoring¬ 
ton, obtained the post of consul at Colon. 

186 








More Lau&hs 

Grant was the first President to install civil 
service regulations governing appointments to 
Federal office. 

Colonel Thorington, for once in his life, 
turned pale when he went to Washington, and 
the following question faced him on his ex¬ 
amination paper: 

‘‘How many soldiers did England send to 
the Colonies during the Revolutionary War?” 

He gazed at the paper, and the paper gazed 
at him, for many precious minutes. Then, in 
desperation, the Colonel wrote this answer: 

“A d—d sight more than ever went back!” 

He trudged home to his hotel, muttering to 
himself, “Oh, well, it’s all off now!” 

Some time later an orderly knocked at his 
door. “Colonel Thorington, the President 
would like to see you, sir.” 

He went to the White House, feeling 
shaky. 


187 






.gre-More LaMShs-gfg, 

The President, smiling broadly, wrung his 
hand. “Colonel, you’re a man after my own 
heart,” he cried. “Here are seven consulates. 
Which will you have?” 


“Daddy,” said Bobby, who was eating an 
apple, “what would be worse than finding a 
worm in this apple?” 

“I don’t know, son, unless it would be worse 
to find two worms in it.” 

“No,” said Bobby very solemnly, “it would 
be worse to find just half a worm in it.” 

THE CATCH 

The old man had a soft, daft look, and he sat 
on a park bench in the sun, with a rod and 
line as if he were fishing; but the line, with 
a worm on the hook, dangled over a bed of 
bright primroses. 


188 







More Laxighs O^y 

‘‘Daft!’’ said a passerby to himself. “Daft! 
Bughouse! Nice looking old fellow, too. It’s 
a pity.” 

Then with a gentle smile the passerby ap¬ 
proached the old man and said: 

“What are you doing, uncle?” 

“Fishing, sir. I’m fishing,” answered the old 
man solemnly. 

“Fishing, eh? Well, uncle, come and have 
a drink.” 

The old man shouldered his rod and fol¬ 
lowed the kindly stranger to the corner saloon. 
There he regaled himself with a large glass of 
dark beer and a good five-cent cigar. His host, 
contemplating him in a friendly, protecting 
way as he sipped and smoked, said: 

“So, you have been fishing, uncle? And how 
many have you caught this morning?” 

Then the old man blew a cloud of smoke 

189 







■Cpg- More Laughs 

toward the ceiling. Then after a pause he 
said: 

“I believe you are the seventh, sir!” 

A PAIR OF SNUFFERS 

A gentleman, on a holiday in the Highlands, 
was engaged one night in writing a letter in 
an humble abode where he had obtained 
accommodations. The guttering candles an¬ 
noyed him, and he called out: 

“Mrs. M’Pherson, can you get me a pair of 
snuffers?” 

“A pair o’ snuffers?” repeated Mrs. M’Pher¬ 
son, somewhat bewildered. “Weel, I’ll dae 
my best.” 

She went out, and in a few minutes there 
was a commotion on the outside. Two stal¬ 
wart figures shuffled in, followed by Mrs. 
M’Pherson. 

“This,” said she, “is Donald M’Dougall, and 

190 






More"L aM^hs^^ 

this is Dougall M’Donald. I dinna ken what 
ye want wi’ them: But I’m thinkin’ the twa 
of them tak mair snuff than ony ither twa in a* 
the parish!” 

A PAIR OF QUITTERS 

A negro was standing an examination for 
the position of Rural Free delivery carrier in 
the Post Office Department. Among other 
questions written for him to answer was the 
poser: 

“What is the distance between the Earth 
and the Moon?” 

His prompt but indignant reply was, “See 
heah! If you’s a gwine to put me on dat route, 
I’se a gwine to quit right now!” 

Another dusky applicant was being tested 
for a job at high wages at the DuPont powder 
plant at Hopewell, Va., not very far from 
Richmond. 


191 





4P0r More Laughs <3^ 

He was ushered into the employment bureau 
and plied with the usual questions put to all 
new hands taken on at the works. All his 
answers were written dov/n. The employing 
agents wanted to know all about the appli¬ 
cant’s history, his past, present and future, not 
to speak of his previous condition of servitude. 

The old darkey stood this part of the exami¬ 
nation pretty well, but he was beginning to 
feel just a little bit “oneasy” when one of the 
men suddenly asked: 

“And who would you like to be notified in 
case of serious accident?” 

Uncle Jake paused and scratched his head a 
bit at this unexpected blow at his morale, but 
after a little while he thought of two persons 
who might like to know of any misfortune 
happening to him. Their names were written 
down. 

“And, last of all,” said one of the examiners, 

192 





$pQr More La\i£hs •C^j^ 

“where would you like your remains to be 
shipped?’* 

“Whar would I like mah remains to be 
shipped!” exclaimed Uncle Jake in a groggy 
sort of voice. “See yeah, Boss, dar ain’t a 
gwine to be no remains, kase I’m a gwine for 
to take all de remains away wid me from heah 
right dis minute!” 


LITERARY-TIPPERARY 

I’m a long way from literary, 

I’ve a long way to go: 

I’m a long way from literary 
And the goal I long for so: 
Good-bye, peccadilloes, 

Farewell, three meals square: 
I’m a long, long way from literary, 
But my ’art’s right there. 

—Kansas City Star. 

193 









e LaM&hs*- 


DEAD ALIVE 

At the conclusion of a meeting of the Board 
of Civil Authority of Windsor, Vermont, Ros¬ 
well Conant, one of the Selectmen, and a 
veteran of the Civil War, told this story: 

'‘Harvey Tinkham hed just died. He was 
a turrible smoker, always puffin’ his pipe or a 
cigarette, an’ folks said excessive use o’ tobacca 
caused his death.. Wall, we was talkin’ o’ the 
deceased an* kinder moralizin’, when Deacon 
Truman Storrs, who, ye know, is kinder torpid 
an’ sometimes drowsy, he up an’ says, ‘Wall, 
I’m seventy-four year old, an’ I never used 
tobacca, neither to chew nor smoke, an' I’m 
in purty reasonable good shape still.’ Wall, 
Dr. Hart Smith, the dentist—ye know, he 
speaks up kinder sharplike now an’ then—he 
ups an’ says: ‘Why, Deacon, who can say but 
what, mebbe, ef you hed took tobacca as a 

194 





More Laughs' 

regelar thing, like the rest of us—ye might 
still be alive to-day!’ ” 

THE KILMAROO 

A man, crossing by ferry-boat from New 
York to Brooklyn, was observed to be carry¬ 
ing a box which evidently contained some 
object he was much concerned about. He 
watched it very carefully, and sometimes 
would lift the lid slightly and blow into it. 

The curiosity of a naturalist, who happened 
to be among the passengers, was excited by 
this, and he made bold to ask the man what 
he had in that box? 

The man told him it was a very strange and 
extraordinary animal called the “Kilmaroo.” 

The naturalist wished him to lift the lid a 
bit and let him see the curious animal, but the 
man said, “No, it might get out.” 

195 








More L&M&hs 


“And what would happen if it did get out?” 
queried the other. 

“Oh, it would run all over the boat and 
terrify, perhaps bite and injure the pas¬ 
sengers.” 

“And what do you feed it on?” demanded 
the man of science. 

“We feed it on nothing but live snakes,” was 
the answer. 

“Live snakes! And where do you get live 
snakes?” 

“Why, you see, I have a brother living down 
in Atlantic City, and he often gets the delirium 
tremens, and when he gets the delirium tre¬ 
mens he sees snakes, and when he sees snakes 
we hurry and catch them, and feed them to my 
Kilmaroo.” 

“But, my dear sir!” exclaimed the naturalist, 
“those are imaginary snakes!” 

196 





13^ More Lau&hs as 

“Well,” responded the other blandly, “so is 
this an imaginary Kilmaroo!” 


DECEMBER AND MAY 

Old Gobsa Golde had wedded young Tottie 
Footlites, and one evening he called to her 
from his dressing room: 

“My dear, for this after-theater supper—I 
don’t know whether to wear my dancing shoes 
or my patent leather boots. Which is the bet¬ 
ter form for a man of my age?” 

In her green-and-gold brocade kimono the 
young and beautiful Mrs. Gobsa, stretched on 
a chaise-longue undergoing the attentions of 
her manicure and her coiffeur, called back 
to her poor old husband in a clear, cold voice: 
“The best form for a man of your age, my 
dear, is chloroform!” 


197 






<^te*More Lavish s 

APPEASING THE BABY 

It isn’t all honey, being the oldest girl in the 
family, as Marjorie often finds. Particularly 
does she feel aggravated when told to put 
Baby Dora to bed. 

Dora has the common infantile complaint 
of wanting everything she can think of before 
she will condescend to go to sleep. 

“I want a drink of milk!" she announced 
late one evening when Marjorie had already 
made several trips upstairs. 

“I lit the gas for you, didn’t I?” demanded 
Marjorie, standing accusingly by the bedside. 
No answer. 

“And I brought you your Teddy Bear and 
your black doll?” Still there was no reply. 

“And I gave you a piece of white paper, and 
a nice pencil, did I not?” To this Dora nodded 
assent. 


198 





La\x£hs 

‘‘Well,” decreed the big sister with an air 
of finality, “just you take the pencil and the 
paper, and draw a cow, and then you can milk 
it yourself!” 


“OLD THAD” 

An old colored preacher from Philadelphia 
had been lying in wait for Thaddeus Stevens 
for several days, with a view to making a 
“touch” in behalf of his church. Finally he 
saw Stevens coming up the long reach of the 
Capitol steps, hobbling in characteristic 
fashion on his club foot. Stevens had been out 
the night before, and the goddess of Fortune 
had smiled on him. 

The old negro approached hesitantly. “Good 
mornin’, Mars Thad,” he began. “I’se been 
looking for you for some time. You see, we’ve 
just built ouah new chu’ch, and is conside’able 
in debt, and I just thought you would he’p us 

199 





More Laxi&hs 

out a little, ’cause I knows you takes a deep 
interest in ouah race.” 

Old Thad looked down upon his humble 
suppliant for a minute. Then he made a dive 
into the capacious rear of his long-tailed coat, 
and drew forth a handful of bills and coin. 
It represented the night’s winnings. 

“Take that, my friend,” he said. And then 
he sonorously ejaculated, “God moves in a 
mysterious way His wonders to perform!” 

ON A DESCENDING SCALE 

A very self-confident young theologian, 
being appointed to preach the sermon on 
Ascension Day, took the Ascension for his 
theme. It was noticed that he went up the 
pulpit steps in a very self-confident manner. 
It was also noticed that he succeeded in mak¬ 
ing an eminent pulpit failure, and came from 
the pulpit with his head down, and in an 

200 







More La\i£lis 

utterly crestfallen manner. After the service 
an aged clergyman, who had witnessed it all, 
said to him, “My young friend, if you had 
ascended as you descended, you would have 
descended as you ascended.’’ 

A KEY WEST CIGAR 

Oh, yes; it’s another, a genuine spoofer. 
Professor Van Dusen was vainly trying to 
unlatch his front door with a cigar—to the 
infinite amusement of a friend who had accom¬ 
panied him home to talk over the fourth 
dimension. 

“Look here, man,” said the friend as soon 
as he could speak without betraying his 
amusement, “do you know what you are try¬ 
ing to open that door with?” 

The Professor looked at the object, then 
gave a start of dismay as he exclaimed: “Good 
gracious! I must have smoked my latch key!” 

201 










More La\ifehs~<>tjft 

It is needless to say that the cigar in question 
was of the Key West variety, and that prob¬ 
ably explains it. 

THE WOMAN AND THE TRAMP: 

A FABLE 

The Woman: “How is this? You promised 
to saw some wood if I gave you a lunch?” 

The Tramp: “Madam, I can recall no such 
promise.” 

The Woman: “The idea! I told you I’d 
give you some lunch if you’d saw some wood, 
and you agreed.” 

The Tramp: “Pardon me, Madam. Your 
exact words were, ‘I’ll give you a lunch if you 
saw that wood over there by the gate.’ ” 

The Woman: “Exactly! That’s just what 
I said.” 

The Tramp: “Well, Madam, I saw that 
wood over there by the gate as I came in!” 

202 





MorlTTaxI&lis 

SCOTCHED! 

The temperance reformer was justly proud 
of having converted the biggest drunkard in a 
little Scotch town, and induced him—he was 
the local grave-digger—to get up on the plat¬ 
form, and give his experience. 

“My friends,” he said, “I never, never 
thocht to stand upon this platform with the 
provost on the ain side o’ me an’ the toon 
dark on the ither. I never thocht that I should 
be spared to tell ye that for a whole month 
I have nae tooched a drap o’ anythin’, an’ in 
consequence I’ve saved enough to buy me a 
braw new coffin wi’ brass handles an’ wi’ brass 
nails—an’ I tell ye what’s mair—if I’m a 
teetotaller for anither month, I shall be 
needin’ it!” 

OUT OF POCKET 

“William,” said the good wife, looking up 
from her paper, “here I see an article that says 

203 





lO^More Laughs 

a man out in Kansas is suing his wife for 
divorce simply because she went through his 
pockets after he was asleep. Goodness knows, 
William, probably the poor woman never got 
a cent from the brute of a husband in any 
other way!” 

“Uh-huh,” replied William. 

“William,” came from his better half, “don’t 
you dare to sit there and ‘uh-huh’ me in such 
a manner! I’ll show you! What would you 
do if you woke up some night and found me 
going through your pockets?” 

“Who—me?” asked the sleepy husband, who 
had already turned over his pay envelope to 
the Boss of the house. “Why, I’d get up at 
once, of course, and help you search, of course, 
my dear.” 

Which reminds me of a young woman who 
met her husband as he returned from his office, 
and showed unmistakable signs of copious 

204 







More La\i£h.s 

weeping. “What’s the matter, my dear Ellen? 
What has happened?” 

“Oh, John,” she said, “I dropped my dia¬ 
mond ring off my finger somewhere, and I 
have been looking for it all day long and I can’t 
find it anywhere!” 

“Oh, if that is all, don’t you worry. That’s 
all right. The ring is safe—I found it this 
morning in my trousers’ pocket!” 


Before Shackleton sailed south on the quest 
of the South Pole he got all kinds of boxes and 
packages from cranks—tea tablets, medicated 
whisky, cowhide underwear, compressed fuel, 
and so on. 

A club acquaintance sent him a fine small 
keg one day. The keg was labeled, “Not to 
be opened till the furthest point South!” 

But Shackleton, a wily bird, opened the keg 
at once, only to find it full of lard or tallow, or 

205 







4fei*More Lau&hs <5*^ 

some such substance, and it was labeled “Axle 
Grease for the Pole!” 


It is related of a certain Philadelphian that, 
being in Richmond, Va., and a trifle affected 
by a too frequent recourse to the Southern 
corn product in liquid form, approached the 
ticket agent, and asked how far it was from 
Richmond to Philadelphia. Being duly in¬ 
formed, he walked away, apparently satisfied. 
A little later he came back again. 

“An’ how far isht from Philadelphia to 
Richmond?” he inquired courteously. 

“I just told you how far it is from Richmond 
to Philadelphia,” snapped the annoyed agent. 
“Haven’t you sense enough to know that it is 
the same distance from Philadelphia to Rich¬ 
mond?” 

“Not sho sure ’bout that,” answered the ob- 
fusticated one, shaking his head gravely. “S’ 

206 






More La\i&hs 

only week from Christmas to New Year—but 
it’s a deedee long time from New Year to 
Christmas, ain’t it?” 


Masanao Hanihira, a Japanese delegate to 
the Armament Conference at Washington, 
relates a tale of his chat with a traffic police¬ 
man who tried to explain to him the system 
of streets, avenues and circles for which Wash¬ 
ington is famous. With the bright inquisi¬ 
tiveness of his race, Hanihira asked the Mas¬ 
ter of Traffic to elucidate. 

“Sure, my little man,” said the polite police¬ 
man. “Keep it in mind, and don’t ye forget it, 
and ye’ll never go wrong: The lettered streets 
run east and west, the numbered streets run 
north and south, and the avenues—well, the 
avenues, now—they run about as they deedee 
well please!” 


207 






$Kir More Laughs 

SCRAPPLE 

Mr. Jiggs unexpectedly encountered his 
friend, Mr. Boggs, on the Atlantic City Board¬ 
walk. “Hello, Boggs,” said he, “you here?” 
“Yes,” was the answer. “Came down for my 
week end.” “Your weak end? Ah, J see. 
Sorry, old chap. What’s gone wrong with 
your old head again?” 


Some people contend that wives are a habit, 
others that they are a blessing, still others 
that—but that is another story, and we had 
better keep things pleasant, and not start a 
discussion. 

The man who had been away from town for 
several months was chatting with some friends 
at the club. 

“By the way, did Goodfellow tell you that 
he is married now?” one asked. 

208 






More Lavighsv^^ 

“Is he, really ?” was the response. “No, he 
didn’t. And,” he added, “that’s one thing I 
always liked about friend Goodfellow—he al¬ 
ways keeps his troubles to himself.” 


Mark Twain, so the story runs, was one day 
walking on the street in Hannibal, Mo., when 
he met a woman with her youthful family. 
“So, this is the little girl, eh?” Mark said to 
her, as she proudly displayed her children. 
“And this sturdy little urchin in the bib be¬ 
longs, I suppose, to the contrary sex?” 

“Yassah,” the woman replied, “yassah, dat’s 
a gal, too.” 

At a political meeting the speaker made a 
jest and, finding that his audience had missed 
the point, he said playfully: 

“I had hoped that you would laugh at that!” 

Then from a remote corner of the hall a 

209 







More Lau&hs 

plaintive voice broke the silence: “I laughed, 
Mister.” And then everybody laughed! 


A schoolgirl being required to write an es¬ 
say of 250 words about a motor car, submitted 
the following: 

‘‘My uncle bought a motor car. He was 
riding in the country, when it busted up a 
hill. I think this is about twenty words. The 
other two hundred and thirty are what my 
uncle said when he was walking back to 
town—but they are not fit for publication!” 

A MIGHTY GOOD TIP 

A wild-eyed, disheveled gentleman, appar¬ 
ently from the country, rushed into the police 
station shouting that he had been robbed. 

The sergeant finally succeeded in soothing 
him into coherency. “Now, let’s hear all about 
it,” said he. 


210 






More Lau&hs 

“Well, half an hour before we reached St. 
Paul I had five thousand dollars in paper that 
I was bringing here to put in the bank. 
When I got outside the depot, I couldn’t find 
it anywhere. I don’t know where it went to. 
That money means a whole lot to me. If I 
don’t-” 

“Now, now, don’t get excited again,” ex¬ 
claimed the officer. “That train breaks up 
here. Maybe the porter saw your money when 
he was cleaning up. I’ll send for him.” 

“Did you see anything of a small package 
when you were cleaning up your car?” the 
sergeant asked when the porter arrived. 

“Yaas, sah. It’s a mighty sight o’ money, 
sah.” 

“Where is it now?” 

“It am here, sah,” and he produced it from 
an inside pocket. 


211 








The gentleman from the country cheered up 
perceptibly when he saw the roll. 

“That’s it!” he exclaimed. “And it’s all 
here, is it, the whole five thousand dollars?” 

“Now, look here, Porter,” said the officer 
severely, “I want to know why you didn’t turn 
that package in the minute you found it?” 

“Why, sah,” he replied, in an injured tone, 
“I supposed de gemman had left it for a Tip!” 


THE REASON 

Several Senators, on their way to their 
onerous duties at Washington, fell to discuss¬ 
ing why it is that while the white race seems 
prone to self-destruction, the negro never com¬ 
mits suicide. 

They called up the negro porter of the car. 
“Sam,” they said, “why is it that white men 
commit suicide, while those of your race 
never do?” 


212 




More La\ighs 

“I think I gets your pint,” was the prompt 
response, “but it’s a hard question, Boss. 
'Pears to me like this way: The white man 
has family troubles, or loses his money, an’ he 
worries an’ he worries, till he goes plumb dis¬ 
tracted, an’ then he shoots hisself. The negro, 
he has troubles too, plenty of ’em, an’ he wor¬ 
ries till he jist can’t stand it no longer—an’ 
then he rolls over an’ goes to sleep!” 

“ENGLISH AS SHE IS SPOKE” 

They say, over in England, that we Ameri¬ 
cans say—telaphone, telagraph, and so on. 
And then they have the hardihood to declare 
that over on this side of the Big Water we 
say, “There are three ways of conveying intel¬ 
ligence rapidly—‘telaphone, telagraph and tell 
a woman!’ ” It’s simply outrageous! 

But, what does John Bull think of the fol¬ 
lowing: A certain English foreman in one of 

213 





^K^More" La\i£hs 

the Kensington textile factories is in the habit 
of having an apprentice heat his luncheon for 
him. The other day he called a new appren¬ 
tice. 

“Go downstairs and ’eat up my lunch for 
me,” ordered the foreman. 

The boy, a typical young American, with no 
knowledge of Cockney English, obeyed with 
alacrity, for he was hungry. 

“Where is my lunch?” shortly after de¬ 
manded the foreman. 

The boy gazed at him in amazement. “You 
told me to eat it up, and I did what you said,” 
he announced. 

“I didn’t tell you to heat it up. I told you 
to ’eat it up!” roared the irate foreman. 

“Well, I didn’t heat it up,” maintained the 
youngster stoutly, “X ate it cold!” 


214 





<^tel*More Lau&hsv^fife 

GUBERNATORIAL AMENITIES 

When Senator Bob Taylor was Governor 
of Tennessee he received a letter from an in¬ 
mate of the Missouri State penitentiary who 
alleged his name was also Taylor and, claim¬ 
ing kin with the Governor, begged him to use 
all the influence of his high office to succor a 
relative in deep distress. 

Accordingly Governor Taylor addressed a 
letter to Governor Francis of Missouri, as 
follows: 

‘‘My Dear Governor Francis: You’ve got 
a fellow named Taylor in your penitentiary 
who says he’s a relative of mine. If you can 
see your way clear to do it, I wish you would 
pardon him—and if any of your kinsfolk ever 
get in the Tennessee Pen, I’ll be most happy 
to return the favor. 

Yours, 

“Robert Taylor, Governor.” 

215 





More LaM^hs 

A wise old owl sat on an oak: 

The more he saw the less he spoke: 

The less he spoke the more he heard— 

Why can’t you be like that wise old bird? 

A KEEN SCENT 

The smart Aleck went into the fruit store. 
He handed the clerk a bit of paper on which 
was written: 

A 8 ? 

The clerk wasn’t getting his six dollars a 
week just for counting out grapefruit, and 
things, and looking pleasant, and he promptly 
wrote beneath it just one word: 

Musk 

“You’re a wise guy!” said the Smart Aleck, 
and he put down the price, one cent, took the 
goods, a Fig, and departed. 

216 





~^POr More 

A spectator of the transaction, being an ordi¬ 
nary lunkhead, said he might as well be a goat, 
too. “What’s the answer?” asked he. 

Replies the clerk, “The Smart Aleck shoves 
me the paper with the A 8 on it. Easy mark! 
A figure eight equals, A Fig. Your rate? 
Wanted a Fig. How much would it come 
to—see? I shoved the paper back to him with 
MUSK written on it: that is to say, Musk, a 

scent. That’s how much it would be. See?” 

• 

STALLED 

An old darkey, with an old gray mule 
hitched to a ramshackle wagon, stood on the 
incline of Capitol Hill, Washington, during 
one of the worst sleet storms of January. 

The old man huddled in his rabbit-skin cap, 
shivering, while the mule trembled with the 
intense cold. 


217 







More 

Two Congressmen, waiting for a belated car, 
were attracted by the strange outfit and won¬ 
dered, as time went on and the old darkey 
made no effort to depart, what ailed the old 
fellow? 

The old darkey pointed a trembling finger 
at his team and replied: 

“ ’Cause dis yere mule o’ mine won’t go 
onless I whistle at him, an’, yo’ honah, it’s so 
darn col’ I jist cyarnt whistle!” 


A gravedigger had the habit of visiting the 
cemetery every night, about midnight, to see 
that all was going well. 

Some boys decided to play a trick on the 
old man. They dug a trench in a dark spot 
the gravedigger always passed in making the 
Grand Rounds, and one of their number, 
clothed in a white sheet, hid behind a tree. 

The gravedigger at midnight duly appeared 

218 






More Laughs 

and, sure enough, he stumbled and fell into 
the trench. 

Then the boy in the sheet stepped out and 
said in a hollow voice: 

‘‘Here, what you doin’ in my grave?” 

“And what are you doing out of it, I’d like 
to know!” was the prompt reply. 


Quickness in repartee has been credited to 
Paderewski. A gentleman once introduced 
the pianist to the champion Polo player of 
England, and added, “You are both leaders 
in your several professions, though they are, of 
course, very different.” 

“Not so very different as might be sup¬ 
posed,” replied the pianist. My new friend is 
a dear soul who plays polo, whereas I am a 
dear Pole who plays solo!” 


I see you have your arm in a sling,” said 

219 







4te*More Laughs 

the inquisitive fellow passenger. “Broken, 
isn’t it?” 

“Yes, sir, it’s broken,” was the answer. 

“Met with an accident, I presume?” 

“No. Broke it trying to pat myself on the 
back.” 

“Great Scott! What for?” 

“For minding my own business.” 

FIGURATIVELY SPEAKING 

My morning paper tells me that 
I am too poor to buy a hat: 

The price of leather for my shoes 
Will make me barefoot, heels and toes: 

I cannot buy a vest or coat— 

And so, I’ll do as does the goat. 

I hoped for cheaper rates on pants, 

But now I see of that no chance, 

While, most of all, they do me hurt 

220 





More Laxi&hs 

By robbing me of any shirt. 

I’ll have to do as Adam did, 

When right behind the bush he hid, 

And then, perhaps, kind providence 
Will help me clothe without expense— 

The Profiteers and Booster Pigs 
Have overlooked the leaves of figs. 

But if, by any sad mischance, 

The price of Fig Leaves should advance— 
Then, stripped of all my worldly goods, 

I’ll run away into the woods! 

—The Goat. 

SUPERSTITION 

“Talking about omens,” said the ex-Cana¬ 
dian soldier, “a mighty queer thing happened 
in the Boer war. A troop of mounted rifles 
were returning after a hard day’s scouting to 
our camp near Middleburg in the eastern part 
of the Transvaal. On our way back we had to 
pass the town cemetery, which was on the side 

221 










More Laughs 


of a hill. Near the gate of the cemetery stood 
a shed in which was kept the town hearse. 

‘‘The doors of this building were open, as we 
were riding past, and in some manner the 
blocks, which were usually kept under the 
wheels of the hearse, must have become dis¬ 
lodged, for the hearse slowly moved out of the 
shed, and rolled down the hill right into the 
middle of our party, and the men scattered in 
all directions. 

“The officer in charge of the troop ordered 
four men to dismount and take the hearse back. 
Now comes the queer part. Soon after this 
we went to Cape Town and took shipping 
for home. Every man of that scouting party 
returned alive and well to Canada, except? 
the four men who handled that uncanny 
hearse. Not a man of that detail returned.” 

The former warrior here paused, and heaved 

222 





^Q»More La\ighs v>^ 

a sorrowful sigh. “Good men, and true com¬ 
rades they were,” said he. 

“Have another drink,” said the bartender, 
“and tell us how the poor fellows died.” 

Silently the soldier drank to the memory of 
his comrades, set down the empty glass, and 
began to edge toward the door. 

“The reason they did not come back was 
because two of them got jobs in Cape Town, 
and the other two married Boer widows, and 
settled down on farms—and unless they died 
since, they must be there still.” 

A FAIR WARNING! 

An American tourist, looking around in 
France to see what he could see, one day 
visited a school and, picking up a book from a 
desk, he opened the book and found the follow¬ 
ing treasure on the fly-leaf—with the accom¬ 
panying inscription beneath it— 

223 






More Laughs 




Qui librum n’a pas rendu— 

Si librum reddisset, 

Pierrot pendu non fuisset!” 

Which singular mixture of Latin and French 
being freely translated would run about this 
way— 

Behold young Peter hanged by the neck, 

Who failed to return a book! 

If he had returned the book, 

Peter would not have been hanged by the neck! 

224 















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